The Truth of a Lie
by SomberLuminosity
Summary: The guardians have always trusted the Man in the Moon. When they are suddenly called away for suspicious reasons, Jack Frost finds himself doubting the moon's honesty. With the shadows preparing to launch another assault, Jack has to decide where his own loyalties lie. And worse yet, the person to help him through all of this is the one he distrusts the most. Rated M for future chs
1. How it Began

***inhales deeply* Am I really doing this? Starting another story? Guess so. Anyways, welcome, welcome. I hope you're prepared for a long ride ahead of us. Hopefully, this story will take off smoothly. I'm looking forward to working on this fanfic, and I also hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. There will be blood and gore and such in future chapters, so keep that in mind. With that said and done, are you ready? Buckle up, hang on tight, and here we go.**

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Chapter 1: How it Began

Teddy bears, board games, wooden dolls. Legos, glow sticks, toy planes. Video games, skateboards, and tea sets. No matter what the item, North knew the gift and its destination by heart. As chief toymaker of all Christmas day goodies, he prided himself upon his memory. Not only was each gift designed in a unique way, but they all had specific recipients. They were created individually for every believing boy and girl across the globe. Millions of children had faith in the man with the red coat and white beard, and as of such, they all received a gift from him every year.

Perhaps this was why North was so fond of his remarkable memory. A name came with each gift, and he knew all of them by heart. It was his job and purpose. It was what the Man in the Moon had chosen him to do. While not the most simplistic of tasks, North loved his guardianship. Looking back at his human life, he could easily see why he enjoyed it so much. He loved kids. Always had, and always would.

Being the industrious person that he was, another chilly day found the large man in his workshop, tinkering away on his latest invention. Thanks to Jack Frost, he had perfected indestructible ice, and as a result he had built an entire train set made of ice, as well as a decent sized toy airplane. Now, his most recent project consisted of making a violin out of the frigid material, which was easier said than done.

"Not _again_! Why are the strings not bending? Why must they break? 'Make toys', they said. 'It will be easy', they said. Bah! "Easy", my foot! Hundreds of years and the life of a toymaker is still not one of ease, I tell you."

Absentmindedly, Jack Frost turned his head to lazily gaze at the back of said man. Together, they were supposed to be creating this "untimely masterpiece" –as North had dubbed it–but so far, all the winter guardian had heard was complaining…in a Russian accent.

"Vhat is the meaning of this? Jack, you are seeing this, yes? Strings will not bend–only chip and break like sticks. We need flexible ice! I can't work with this material." North rubbed his thickly bearded chin. His eyes narrowed at the lifeless instrument on the wooden table. There simply had to be a solution for this particular dilemma. In his mind the round man had just yet to see it.

"Hmmm…"

Jack watched as the Guardian of Wonder picked up the unfinished violin in his warm, calloused hands. He turned it thoughtfully from one side to the other, investigating the source of error. Jack vaguely realized that the gentleness in his hands had come from years of caring for reindeer. The way his fingers smoothed over the frost, and how he cradled it firmly but not harshly spoke volumes. As a pocket of silence drifted between the two, Jack used the moment to allow his tired eyes to rest. He was tired–unusually so–and sleep felt like a wind's breath away.

"Aha! I found it!"

The sudden shout caused the winter sprite to jolt, snapping back to attention. Blissfully ignorant as always, North shoved the disastrous instrument in front of Jack's eyes.

"See? I find problem. No ice–no strings. And so we improvise!"

The block of ice was removed from Jack's line of sight as the other man turned around and began working on it. Unable to listen to curiosity, Jack merely slipped his eyes closed again. Really, there was no point to him being there, but North had insisted. And it wasn't like there was anything better for him to do.

_Besides finding a bed. _

Jack mentally reminded himself to ask his friend whether there were any guest rooms in the North Pole. It had taken him awhile to realize that the location of Santa's workshop was named after himself. Maybe it was just Jack, but he couldn't help but recall feeling stupid when he'd asked North about the link between the two names. The elder guardian had just laughed heartily as he explained to him the intentional relationship. Jack remembered wanting to crawl in a dark corner and hide from the world. Thankfully, Bunny hadn't been there at the time to witness the whole idiotic exchange.

At some point, North had begun humming a Christmas carol while chipping away at the ice. Jack couldn't bring himself to care. His snowy head of hair lolled back against the wall he was leaning on. He felt _so_ tired. Guardians didn't need sleep, did they? So what was his problem? The little whisper in the back of his mind was smothered for now as Jack gave himself up to blissful unconsciousness. His world slowly turned simple and black as he fell asleep, standing up.

Approximately ten minutes later, the Guardian of Wonder turned around to present his revamped master piece, but stopped short at the sleeping Jack. He chuckled silently to himself as he set aside his toy for now. With purposeful strides, he swept the sleeping spirit up in his arms and carried him to an adjoining guestroom. Jack was carefully settled under thick quilts on an inviting bed. A cheery fire blazed from the far wall, but North quenched it with a bucket of freezing water. He made sure the window was open so that the winter chill blanketed the room, and then exited as silently as possible, the door closing softly behind him.

North shook his head to himself, a hint of a smile showing. However, all thoughts of winter sprites were dashed away as he began to head back to his personal workspace. He pushed his way through the many busybodies in the workshop, shouting a few orders to yetis along the way.

One particular yeti–Phil–stopped North in his tracks and gestured to the giant window above them. North frowned at him before turning to gaze up ahead.

_Manny._

The Santoff Clausen doubled in confusion as more orders were boomed out to make preparations. North was about to summon his fellow guardians, but stopped. The Man in the Moon was more important, right? Perhaps he should wait on the summons, and listen to his friend first.

As North stepped forward to stand directly underneath the brilliant moonbeam, he grinned eagerly in anticipation.

"Manny, old friend! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The moon's cryptic message soon morphed that smile into an alarming frown.

…

Jack groaned in drowsiness. His head throbbed with a dull ache, and his eyes swam with tired uselessness. He begrudgingly forced himself to get out of bed which resulted in him tumbling onto the floor with a loud thump. He only moaned louder in response.

With a fistful of blanket, he edged up over the side of his bed and gazed out the window. It was dark outside–nighttime–and the snowy expanse was quiet and empty. Jack reminded himself to coat another layer of flurries over the wonderland.

He shifted from his knees to his feet, ignoring the sudden dots in his vision. Relying more on touch than sight, he stumbled toward the door and out into the deadly silent workshop.

No sound, no sight. Only darkness.

Blinking, he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and checked again. There was no sound to be heard, but the workshop was still here. The spirit breathed a relieved sigh as he began to search for another living being in the abandoned area.

All forms of life had seemingly vanished as Jack flew from one area to the next, investigating rooms and work spaces. No elves jingled underfoot, leading him to a single assumption: they were all gathered upstairs in the meeting conference.

Calling upon the wind, Jack soared up to the highest level in the factory, eschewing all stairs. His pale brows furrowed in determination and slight concern. If something had happened while he slept, he would kill himself. Curiosity puled for his attention, and he eventually discarded all self-doubt. The wind tousled his fair bangs playfully; it was its way of urging the winter spirit onward.

The final story of the workshop came in view, and Jack sped up to it. His eyes darted around, searching, as he overcame the wooden railing that surrounded the premises. The hand clutching his staff tightened in a brief spawn of panic when he did not see anyone. Voices drifted faintly from a hall to his right, relieving the tension in his shoulders and beckoning his call. Jack immediately followed the sound.

As he neared the hallway, the voices became more distinguishable. North's thick Russian accent became evident, as did Bunnymund's Australian twang. They sounded as if they were arguing when Tooth's unmistakable lilt chimed in. The group hushed for a moment as if listening to someone before resuming their discussion once again.

_Sandy._

The Big Four–they were all here. _Together._ The guardians never assembled in a complete group unless it was for a summons or some other serious business.

Jack sped towards the source of the voices, zooming past room after empty room. He could tell where they were now; his eyes settled on the opened door all the way at the end of the hallway.

"–And I say that this whole idea is ludicrous. Why should we even leave anyways?" Bunnymund was arguing over…something with the guardians. Jack could hear the gruffness in the pooka's voice as he advanced towards the door.

"Is not our place to question why. Manny knows what he's doing. I say we go," North rebutted.

"But even if we did leave," Tooth reasoned with them, "what would happen to the children? We can't just leave them to–"

Jack took that as his queue to enter. He breezed past the door, finally finding the guardians sitting around a large, oak table in heated discussion. They all wore concerned frowns, especially Sandy who opted to float beside the table rather than sit. His golden hand rubbed his chin as he stared deep in thought at his bantering friends.

"To whom, Tooth?" Jack Frost landed gracefully on the floor and sidled up to them. His gaze flickered to the Guardian of Memories in question who blinked at him in surprise. The entire room went silent as Jack approached the guardians. The yetis, the elves, the baby teeth…_everyone_ was here.

Jack's gaze shifted to the floor once he felt all pairs of eyes on him. He never did like crowds. They were always so suffocating and close, and they reminded him of his awakening as a spirit and feeling all lost and alone, and _why_ was everyone staring at him, he just wanted to shrivel up into a ball and hide somewhere–

"Jack."

His head snapped up to meet the look on North's elated face. The bulky man rose from his chair and was upon the frost spirit before anyone could blink.

North's hugs were welcoming, but they were also tight and uncomfortably close. And so, without thinking, Jack wriggled out of the guardian's grasp and pushed him away. He was so unused to this concept of hugging and touching. Everyone had always seemed to pass through him for three hundred years. It was only a natural reflex to avoid any person at all costs.

"Jack…?"

But then, he wasn't used to this hurt look of betrayal. And North was looking at him like that with that confused, sad expression, and it was just _dead silent_ in the room, not to mention awkward, and Jack was just seconds from leaping into the air and taking o–

A hand clasped his shoulder. The Guardian of Fun visibly flinched, but his lips remained pursed. He stared wide eyed into his friend's worried face, breath eager to come out rapidly. North merely waited for Jack to calm down, and he leaned forward so no one else could hear him.

"Easy, Jack," he whispered, "It's alright. We're all here. Just breathe."

Nodding slowly, Jack released a heavy breath he didn't realize he was holding. North looked like he wanted to draw the smaller spirit into a comforting hug but thought better of it. He straightened up again and rubbed his chin as his eyes perused the Jack's state. When the frostling offered a weak smile, the guardian seemed to visibly relax as his shoulders sagged in relief.

All eyes were on the pair, and Jack glanced around with a nervous grin.

"Hey, guys." _Wow, could this get any more awkward?_

Bunnymund sniffed and turned back to the others at the table. "Anyways, as I was saying earlier before we were so rudely interrupted–"he threw a glare in Jack's direction, "I say we wait till further news from Manny. He only said that we _might_ be needed up there. Isn't that right, North?"

"Yes, but still." North walked back to his seat, gesturing behind his back for Jack to join them. "I no think is good idea to leave Man in Moon alone, helpless."

"The Man in the Moon doesn't need our help, North! I mean, this is Manny we're talking about here!" The rabbit jumped from his chair in disbelief and with a dumbfounded expression on his face. He turned on Sandy and Tooth, looking to them for support. "You guys are with me on this, right?"

Tooth glanced uneasily at Sandy who looked just as lost. Another pregnant silence settled between the group.

"So…anyone want to tell me what's going on?"

Jack flicked his gaze from Bunnymund to Sandy, but mainly focused on Tooth and North. The fairy settled in her chair though, and looked Jack dead in the eye.

"Recently, the Man in the Moon contacted North and told him that we were needed up there in his palace," she explained softly. "For what reason, we're unsure of, but North seems to think that it may have to do with the shadows."

"The shadows?" Jack leaned forward at this. "Y-you mean as in the shadows that Pitch controlled? Nightmares?"

North was already shaking his head no before Jack finished. "As Tooth said, we are unsure of situation, Jack. But the fact that Manny has contacted me–us–raises great concern, given his busy schedule."

Bunnymund snorted as disgust wrote over his face.

"But," North fixed the pooka with a hard look, "I also do not want to make such a brash move without being sure. We have our jobs as guardians to watch over the children, and that is no task that can be left unattended. If what Manny says is true about the shadows returning, then I will leave my workshop in place of other. The same goes for Bunny, Sandy, and Tooth. We all have replacements that we can find."

"But what about me?" Jack furrowed his brow in confusion. "Who would sub in for me? I don't necessarily know of anyone else who can spread frost–not that I've been looking–and I don't recall the Man in the Moon ever assigning me a replacement, so…"

The Big Four shuffled uncomfortably in their seats. No one seemed willing to make eye contact, much less speak. Jack eyed them all carefully as a sinking feeling of dread began to amass in his navel. He could feel it swarming, just waiting to grow off the fear and horror that slowly chipped at his defenses.

North looked up from his folded hands. He inhaled deeply, but managed to make eye contact with the winter guardian across from him. The sense of caution alarmed Jack because North had _never_ thought to step lightly around a topic, never needed to think about his words. He was always cheerful, always bringing encouragement and positivity to everyone. There was just no need for this level of caution. And it dawned on Jack that this may be the first time North had ever had to consider his next set of words. This must be just as much difficult for him as it was for Jack.

"Jack…" Even his voice sounded heavy with trepidation. It almost made Jack want to cry from the sight of his friend's antic face, and the suspense of it all.

The Guardian of Wonder swallowed thickly and tried again. "The Man in the Moon is very knowledgeable in the things he does, and choices he makes. He knows what's best for all of us. Including _you_, Jack.

"Which is why he…why Manny has chosen you to…stay behind and watch over the kids."

The only sound that filled the room was everyone's gutted breath as they waited.

For a moment all Jack did was blinking. Myriad thoughts clamored to push to the forefront of Jack's mind, but he couldn't process a single one. All he felt was emptiness…and rejection. A blank slate filled his vision, and on it was his reflection. Jack was instantly reminded of the time when he was reborn as an immortal with only a name to go by. There had been a numbness that had settled over him then, and he felt its familiar twinge now.

Suddenly, something twisted painfully in Jack's gut. Perhaps it was from the slow process of what North's words meant, but now, it felt as if he had taken a blow to the stomach. His breath began to rise and fall rapidly, and he knew he was hyperventilating. Jack didn't even have time to stop and think. This time a noise really _did_ arise from his mouth as he cried out in horror and betrayal. The unmistakable feeling of hurt began to resurface again from his past shields of ice. It broke through, choking the words from his throat. It was Easter all over again. He could feel the guardians' weighted stares as they labeled him unworthy and incompetent to handling the truth. The pained looks North and the others were giving him was too much, too overwhelming.

Jack sprang up from his seat and bolted out the door. He needed to leave, and he needed to leave _now_. The wind whistled him towards the nearest window. There were the distinct shouts of his name, but he ignored them all.

As Jack soared outside in the frigid temperatures, he felt the terror of not being accepted once again continue to gnaw at him. He was running away, and Jack couldn't be any more scared. The breeze lifted him higher into the air, and with him, his fears.

…

It was past midnight when Jack finally regained a level degree of calm. The knife of betrayal still pulsed brokenly in his chest, but it was slightly less overbearing.

Walking aimlessly on a telephone line, Jack turned the hood of his jacket up over his head. He didn't want to have to deal with anyone right now, though he knew North would want to reattempt the conversation he'd skipped out on.

Ice crawled in every which direction as the frost spirit walked. It wove intricate designs that could only be done by the handiwork of Jack Frost himself. However, tonight, the ice had no limitations as to where it unfurled. Telephone poles and sidewalks bathed in the pristine glow of glittering ice. Snow fell together in random and obscure places while other spots were left completely untouched. Water froze in tiny droplets on leaves, and tiny icicles formed under roofs and cars. The night dropped to a temperature just perfect for freezing and creating snow.

But snowballs and fun times were the farthest thing from Jack's mind. He sauntered across roofs and telephone lines with no real purpose in his stride. His feet chose its own path as his mind wandered elsewhere.

_Why would they leave me? Why couldn't he have told me? Why can't the moon speak directly to my own face? Is it because he's afraid of my reaction? I know I sort of overreacted back at North's, but still. Maybe it's the fact that I'm the newest guardian. Maybe it's because I'm so young. Or maybe–_

"It's because I don't belong."

His own voice surprised him so much that Jack stopped in his tracks. It would be easy for the other guardians to just cast him off to the side. Sure, he was included in their minimal meetings, but he never really contributed to the work they did. In fact, in some things he was kept completely out of the loop. There really was nothing tying them together other than the fact that they had brought the Nightmare King down together.

_Then again, I didn't even really do anything. It was all thanks to the kids' belief that we were able to stop him._

Hadn't Pitch said something about him not belonging? Something about the guardians never accepting him? That had been the night before Easter when Jack had been lured into the Boogeyman's realm. To have all of his fears turned against him–it had been possibly the worst night of Jack's life.

And yet, he couldn't help but feel that there had been a ring of truth to Pitch's words. Granted, he had been trying to manipulate Jack at the time, but Jack had still heard sincerity behind the lies. Lies that he had told himself weren't true. Perhaps they were.

An unexpected rustle from the wind pulled Jack from his thoughts. He blinked at his surroundings, trying to figure out where he was when the familiar patch of woods caught his eye. To his left was a lake covered in his ice, and to his right was a dry meadow past the trees.

Curious, he floated closer to the small open area, a strong sense of déjà vu thundering in his heart.

The clearing was remarkably dark and shadowed, and only thin shafts of moonlight penetrated the heavy curtain of foliage. There was a rocky bed where a small stream used to trickle through; now it lay lifeless and without use.

Jack flew into the middle of the area. He _had_ been here before, but when and why he was not sure.

He was about to call it a strange case of confusion when he flew over a particularly black spot on the ground. Jack stopped to hover above it. The shadows confused him because due to the position of light, the ground should be more visible and not so dark. However, as Jack flew closer to examine the black spot, he realized it wasn't the shadows at all. Instead of there being ground, it was actually a hole. A gaping maw in the dirt which would have been quite easy to miss if one walked by.

Suddenly, it hit him. Familiar trees, open clearing, bottomless hole. This was where Pitch Black had been defeated, taken prisoner by the very own nightmares he had created. It was where the entrance to his lair had closed in on itself.

_So why has it reopened?_

Glancing around the vacant woods one last time, Jack tossed away all rational thought and jumped in. If Pitch was strong enough to resurface and threaten children once again, then Jack and the guardians needed to know what they were up against.

A dull roar filled Jack's ears as he sailed downwards into the inky black. He couldn't see where the cave floor was and relied on the wind to ease up on the impact of his descent. Jack touched down lightly on rocky earth, almost immediately looking up. It wasn't that far of a drop he noticed, and the small tunnel's entrance opened up about thirty feet above his head.

Looking forward, Jack hesitantly approached the cavern which grew immensely in size past the tight entrance. The inside of Pitch's lair was _huge_, and it was designed with the motif of an underground castle. Most of the place was covered in a twisting, turning labyrinth while other parts were fashioned to be extensive bridges with intricate designs. There were stairs everywhere, and some of them led directly to a cave wall just to add to the baffling design.

Jack's footsteps resounded loudly under here. _Now…to find Pitch._

He was sure the Boogeyman was somewhere around here–probably sulking. There was no possible way that he could have regained power so quickly. It had only been a few months, not even a year. Jack knew by instinct that no immortal could heal in such a short span of time. They had to spend years recuperating, and then relearning their abilities and power. They had to spend time searching their center for what was once lost. All circumstances aside, the winter spirit wasn't sure if Pitch even had a center.

The lair was eerily quiet. Jack had thought that there would be nightmares crawling all over the place, but instead he couldn't find a single one. It was as if the place had been abandoned.

The sudden fear that Pitch _had_ already gained his powers and was terrorizing children right now struck Jack with such force that he had to gasp for air. It would explain the desertedness and absolute silence of the realm and–

_No. No, no, no, NO. It's not possible. He couldn't have– He was too weak– Oh gosh, what if he's spreading nightmares now? What if he's fighting the other Guardians? What if I just missed him? What if–_

"Still haven't overcome the fear of failure yet, Frost?"

It was such an unexpected noise in the silent cavern that Jack yelped in surprise. He whirled around, searching for the only person who could have such a deep voice. The words twisted a knot in his stomach, and Jack could feel phantom hands caressing and tugging the hairs at the back of his neck.

"Do you still harbor a fear for little, old me?"

Jack eyes danced warily around the dark infested area, spinning his body this way and that. He tightened his hands around his staff and brought it closer to his chest in defense. But while he could protect himself from physical damage, his mind could not combat against the voice that smoothed it in a gentle, dangerous lullaby.

"I must say…that is quite touching."

Jack furrowed his eyebrows in concentration, willing his ears to not listen to the voice surrounding him. He ignored the sheen of sweat that had begun to paste his hair to his forehead because it wasn't fear that was causing the bodily exertion, now was it?

"But somehow I highly doubt you would come by to simply pay me a visit. Or is it because of something else? Perhaps a touch of fear has brought you to my doorstep."

Jack gritted his teeth in anger as his vision momentarily went red. His staff glowed iridescent blue as ice sparked from the top.

"Show yourself, you coward!" Even his own voice sounded foreign to him.

"Oh, but that is a unique flavor of fear that you are producing." Pitch all but ignored him. "You should see yourself, Frost. You're enveloped in a cloud of beautiful, indigo light. It represents your fear, you know. And judging by the shade of the vapors flowing off you in waves, I'd say we have a healthy dose of pure, intoxicating terror. Ah, ah, little frost spirit! Watch that temper of yours! It might just invoke me."

Jack quietly panted from his slightly hunched over position. Flinging massive shards of ice in every direction had somewhat taxed him. The cavern glittered with the deadly pieces of blue and white. The warm air had shifted to accommodate with the attack and was steadily dropping towards zero.

"If you're so brave, come on out and fight me!" Jack's yell echoed off the many walls. His words repeated themselves over and over in haunting cacophony. The shadows around him were strangely still as Jack glared at each one. For a while they remained quiet. Then…

Jack felt it before he saw it. A presence, tall and intimidating, leaned over him. It stood at attention behind his back, waiting to be noticed.

"But why would I want to fight?"

Jack mentally prepared himself before twisting on his heel with falcon speed and lashing out at the presence behind him. Only…there was nothing there.

"What makes you think that _I_ want to fight?"

Soft azure eyes widened in surprise and horror when he realized his mistake. The presence–now more prominent than ever–loomed directly behind him, pale hands creeping over his shoulders in a mock gesture of comfort.

A shuddering breath exhaled from the Guardian of Fun's chest as he tried–and failed–to calm his rapidly beating heart. A face appeared directly next to his, and he had to muster all his strength just to gaze out the corner of his eye, to look upon the face that questioned his sanity.

"_Jack_?"

A violent chill wracked his body as the voice spoke directly into his ear. The fingers on his shoulders tightened just enough to support him should he fall. As Jack's breathing leveled out, the fear in him did not abate. Why wasn't he using his staff?

_Why am I so scared?_

A tickle of air blew across the side of his neck as Pitch inhaled deeply. "Your fear…" His voice carried an almost sensual lilt to it. Whether Pitch was pausing to actually smell his fear or for just dramatic effect, Jack wasn't sure.

"It is delicious."

Jack closed his eyes from the world around him. His face scrunched up in concentration that he did not have, and his mouth turned into a sharp grimace. Unbeknownst to him, the sight brought a delighted smile to his enemy's.

"_Get off of me_." His voice turned sonorous and deadly.

"With pleasure, my little snowflake."

And suddenly, he was gone. Jack blinked as the weight lifted from his shoulders and vanished completely. He spun around, ready to kill, but nothing–nobody–was there. There was no evidence of anyone recently standing behind him. No stir in the wind. No scuffled marks of dirt on the ground. It was as if it had been a bad dream.

"Everything in here is a bad dream, Frost." Jack flipped sharply to his right to see his arch nemesis sitting there on the stone balcony of the bridge, head resting in palm of hand, and legs crossed as his elbow rested on the tip of his knee. Jack could see him leaning forward obscurely, ecliptic eyes in narrowed slits. His posture was that of a panther ready to pounce on its prey. "I thought you would have figured that out already. But then again," he leaned back and waved a dismissive hand, "I always have given you more credit than you deserve."

Jack gaped at him for a few seconds before scoffing and rolling his eyes. He was tired of this back and forth. "I never asked for your opinion either."

Pitch looked at him with an expression close along the lines of boredom. "True," his voice was surprisingly monotonous. "But tea cups and biscuits were never your sort of thing. Tell me, Frost, what brings you here to my domain? Don't tell me you've come waving a white flag in return for hospitality. In case you didn't notice, mine is already standing outside at the entrance which you so generously made use of upon your grand entry," Pitch deadpanned.

Despite the situation, Jack couldn't help but release a tiny snicker. He shook the snowy bangs out of his eyes and fixed the Boogeyman with a cold glare. "No, I didn't. I just thought I'd swing by after seeing that the entrance to your creepy, little lair had reopened. Which reminds me…," he dared a step in Pitch's direction, eyes scanning his face for any signs of lying. "Why did it open? And where are your shadows? 'Cause we'll stop them, you know. You won't make it a step out of this forsaken place without us breathing down your neck."

Before he had even finished, Pitch was shaking his head in denial. "It would seem as though you haven't lost any of your naivety either. Charming. I suppose I could string you along and say that my shadows and I are fully recharged and ready to fight, but that wouldn't benefit me in any way, and I particularly don't feel up to dealing with you guardians right now. So no, you can rest your pretty head on the fact that I and the shadows are not attacking, nor will we ever again. At least not in a state that would involve us fighting together."

"What are you saying?" Jack whispered, suddenly enthralled, his irises widening as the truth sunk in. _It can't be true, can it?_

"Have you ever had a nightmare come to life, snowflake?" Pitch asked, standing up and folding his hands behind his back. "Ever experienced the terror, the raw _fear_ that plagues your mind once you realize that it is happening before your very eyes? That it won't fade away like a bad dream? Because when you do experience that living horror, it is the most eye opening truth that reveals the cruelty of the world.

"You may call my downfall your victory. But know this, little snowflake: no matter how great the peril you face, you will never be fully prepared for the evil that continues to lie restless in its dormant state. A war is coming, young one, and I honestly cannot say that I've seen someone so immature and ignorant as you guardians."

Growling in anger, Jack slammed his staff down onto the frost covered ground. "If all you're going to do is spout insults at us, spirits that you can't even hold a decent fight against, then I wouldn't be talking if I were you. We're stronger than you. We took down your attempt at power; we'll take down your shadows too."

Pitch tilted his head to the side and gave Jack an almost pitying smile.

"But I did not say that it would be the shadows that you would be fighting, now did I? Oh no, Frost, this is more than just a few rampant nightmares. Nightmare men. _Fearlings_. Creatures that you've never imagined, and are far more dangerous than a simple, nightly visit to a child's bedside. I should know, considering I was possessed by them."

"Wait, possessed?" Jack suddenly leaned forward, causing the Boogeyman to frown at him and take a small step back. "You mean you were someone else before the shadows? Before Pitch Black?"

The Nightmare King sighed heavily as if the very topic was tiring him. He turned away from the winter sprite, beginning to faze with the shadows.

"I fear I've said too much already," he called over his shoulder, "If you have come here on truly no basis, then I suggest you kindly leave."

With that, he allowed the shadows to curl around his body and robe. Jack's eyes widened as he realized too late what Pitch was doing.

"Pitch, wait! Stop!"

However, his words were lost on the Boogeyman who disappeared into the shadows. Jack huffed in irritation, partly because Pitch had held out on information for him, but mainly because he himself had not achieved anything by coming here. It was a waste of time, Jack felt like, but he decided that he should at least forewarn the guardians.

Pitch's conversation kept replaying over in his head. Was it true that Pitch had been someone different before he had become the Nightmare King? Someone possibly humane? The thought excited Jack more than he expected. He would have to talk to North.

Scanning the cavern one last time, Jack saw no traces of unnatural shadows or Pitch. So he shot towards the exit, something akin to eagerness bubbling inside him.

As he burst out into the chilly cover of night once again, Jack was greeted with the brilliant rays of a full moon. He paused midflight to stare up at the silent observer.

"What are you planning this time?" he whispered. "What's happening?"

As usual, the moon had no reply to give.

…

The workshop was alive with activity when Jack returned. He landed softly on the wooden flooring beneath a window, unconsciously coating it in ice.

Despite the late hour, yetis moved to and fro, all carrying something in their furry arms. They seemed to be preparing for something, and Jack wondered if it had to do with the other guardians leaving on short notice. He squirmed his way past the mammoth bodies that flooded the interior of the building.

No one paid him any mind as he made his way to where North had last been seen. As far as they knew, he was just a mindless nuisance who had no real place to belong. Jack quickly doused that thought before it could start the familiar flame. He summoned the wind and flew above the commotion.

On the highest floor of the building, Jack found North pouring over maps on his desk in front of the globe. The guardian's eyes assessed each latitude and longitude of the paper it seemed. Jack noted the stiff back and firmly pressed knuckles on wood. Suddenly, he found himself nervous to approach the man for fear of disrupting his work.

However, North noticed Jack almost immediately, and his head shot up in surprise. "Jack!"

Said person winced at the sound of relief in his friend's voice. Had he really worried them that much? He had only been gone for a few hours. Then again, his departure hadn't exactly been the most calming either.

North stepped away from his desk and hurried over with a delighted–and worried–grin on his face. He stopped just short of the younger guardian and spread his hands as if to say _'No harm done, yeah?'_

"Hello, North." Could he sound any more formal?

Apparently, North didn't seem to think so because the look he gave him was so open, Jack read him like a book.

_What is this–a dinner party? _

Jack forced a fake smile in return; he was sure it made him look awkward. Thank goodness Santa didn't judge by appearances if the widened grin on his face said anything. Instead, he just brushed the strange greeting aside and returned one of his own. Albeit slightly less formal.

"Is good to see you again, Jack!"

_Nope. Definitely not a dinner party._

He resisted the urge to continue the standoffish dialogue by saying something such as "likewise". Though the thought did cause his smile to become a little easier, and his eyes gazed directly into the taller man's, but his vision was glassy, more glazed.

"I was wondering when you would come back. You had me worried, Jack. All of us." North dropped the grin, but his tone remained gentle and inviting. It made the frost spirit want to hide in remorse. He hadn't realized the weight of his actions might affect others so heavily, and the onslaught of guilt hit him like a brick.

"I know, North, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean–"

_This is my fault, ALL MY FAULT. I should have listened, should have heard what they had to say. Why must I always act so carelessly? I only end up hurting the people close to me. Just like all those years ago at the pond–_

"Stop."

The command was so unexpected that he did just that. Jack shivered in spite of himself because he had never, _never_ heard the other speak with such authority and force. His blue eyes widened in shock, his jaw dropped unexpectedly. He felt trapped under the weighty gaze that North was using on him. Something told him that he should probably step back in case of an attack, but he instantly disregarded it.

North was the one to break the intense stare, and he looked to the side, sighing. As if it was his fault.

"I don't…I'm not sure what it was like when you were alone all those years." He huffed again. Jack felt frozen to the spot, literally. The knife turned just the feeblest inside his chest.

"It must have been…painful to have us ignore you like that. A-and I know that it must have _hurt _to not have anyone to talk to, to confide in." His gaze was much more sorrowful when he looked back at Jack.

_Yes, yes it was._

"But, Jack, you can't take the blame for old feelings of that hurt and loss. You see, I've been in your position before. I know what it's like to be ignored, alone. I know it hurts more _here_," he pointed a finger at Jack's heart, "than here." He tapped the side of Jack's head. His hand returned to its place on the shoulder of the blue hoodie, something Jack hadn't even noticed.

North was bending so that he was eye level with him. It felt as though neither could move, and the words played around in the spirit's mind. They tasted unfamiliar, but not unwanted.

_Not my fault… _

"The blame does not fall on you, Jack. Not this time."

_Are you sure?_

"I do not know what Man in Moon has planned for you, but know that you are very special. More so than you think. It is why you are being entrusted as the guardian of the children in our absence, however long that may be."

North's words were beginning to overwhelm the young guardian. For so long he had been accused of always being at fault, and to finally hear that he was not responsible… He hadn't even realized that he had begun crying until a tear dripped down his jawline.

"Always remember that you are special, Jack. Very important to everyone."

_Special._

"Promise me you will never forget that," North demanded, but softly so.

Jack nodded and couldn't stop nodding. The tears continued their silent stream down his cheeks as he stood quietly and resolute in the belief that he was loved.

_Since when did I get so emotional?_

When North stepped forward, Jack let him. This time, he didn't resist. This time, he welcomed the hug. He cried without noise into North's arm, his shoulders shaking in sobs.

How many minutes passed was unknown, but it felt like it wasn't ages until they pulled apart. Jack wiped his wet face on his sleeve and offered a more genuine and relieved smile this time. North's was equally cheerful and wide. He rubbed his hands together, and his eyes sparkled mischievously.

"So…" Jack couldn't remember the last time he'd had such difficulty finding the words to say. "You're…you're really leaving?"

North gave an empty sigh but nodded at the same time. "Yes. Bunny, Tooth, Sandy and I all agreed that it would be for the best. Well…Bunny not so much. But nevertheless, we are leaving soon, most likely this hour."

Jack wanted to complain, to argue with North and explain why he _shouldn't _go, but before he could open his mouth, North cut him off.

"Now, let's talk about this irritant you've most recently talked to. The Boogeyman."

Jack's irises widened to the size of saucers.

…

"Is everything ready?" Tooth flew about the landing area of the Santoff Clausen, nervously blabbering every five seconds.

"The subs are on their way? Do we need anything? Should I bring floss and a toothbrush? Oh, but Manny probably has one. Doesn't he? What if I bring my own just in case? Would he be offended, do you think? I certainly don't want to get on his bad side. Maybe I should leave it here and take gum instead. But that doesn't help too much at all. What if I–"

"Tooth!"

Toothiana whirled around to find the Easter bunny staring at her in exasperation. She frowned at him as he rolled his eyes, but then she caught sight of blue to her left.

"Jack!"

The frost spirit glanced to the side and saw the Toothfairy speeding toward him with a grin on her delicate face. Jack took a cautious step back, but it hardly did any good.

She flew directly up into his face, and her amaranthine eyes filled his vision.

"Oh, Jack, I've been meaning to chat with you all night!" The cheerfulness in her voice couldn't help but make Jack smile softly. She'd always had that effect on him. He'd found that in most situations whenever he was feeling depressed, he would visit the Tooth Palace. The warm climate didn't sit well with him, and the air made his body feel sticky, but he didn't mind if it meant seeing her and the baby teeth again. There was something magical–ethereal properties aside–about the place that Jack only felt when he sat down with one of the fairies on a glorious, golden pillar. It didn't occur regularly as Toothiana and her fairies were busy year round, but when he did enter their realm, it was like revisiting a forgotten memory, ironically. Whenever he returned, the welcoming feeling of finding something forgotten always pervaded his senses.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd visited Punjam Hy Loo, but it certainly had been a while. Tooth did say that he could visit whenever he wanted…

"I just wanted to let you know that you're free to come visit my palace and the baby teeth anytime you want. I'm leaving Baby Tooth here also, so you guys can keep each other company if you like. I know you're close friends with her."

If Jack didn't know any better, he would have thought that Toothiana could read minds, and why was she beaming at him like that? There was something different about her visage, but the frostling couldn't put his finger on it. So he merely nodded his head in acknowledgement instead.

Tooth bounced up and down in the air with her wings before halting suddenly. "Oh, before I forget, the person who will be working in my place knows that you might show up some time at the palace, so don't worry about surprising her or anything. She's a really sweet girl, bless her heart. A little shy, but we all have to start from somewhere, don't we? I'm sure you will get along just fine with her."

Toothiana seemed to be talking more to herself than Jack at the moment. He shrugged a shoulder anyway and widened his smile.

"I'll be sure to stop by and check on the baby teeth, Tooth. Thanks–for everything."

She jolted as if shocked by the fact that he had spoken at all but instantaneously recovered. "No problem at all, Jack," her wings beat a little slower as she hovered down to him, face tensing. "I know you are probably worried right now about all this craziness that's happening." Her voice was much quieter; it was like she felt the need to whisper. "But we'll never be too far away, Jack. We'll always be here for you, if not _physically_ here."

Toothiana gave him a warm smile that reminded Jack of a mother comforting her child. The mental image was unexpected, but he felt a tug in his heart at the thought.

_First North, now Tooth. I wonder if Bunny would even bother…_

Jack wasn't sure how to respond, opting for a nervous chuckle instead. He rubbed the back of his neck which strangely felt slightly warm. Tooth took the hint and backed away, an awkward smile playing on her lips as well.

"Haha, so umm… I guess I'll be seeing you, Jack? Hopefully soon?"

With that, she shot back towards Bunnymund and Sandy who had stepped outside. Jack watched her from where he stood as she began to chat animatedly with the two. No doubt one of them was rolling his eyes again.

The Guardian of Fun repeated her parting words in his head, mulling them over. Their meaning brought a sad smile to his face as he realized just how dire this situation had actually become. They were going to fight alongside the Man in the Moon, one of the most powerful beings to have ever existed. If he needed their help, who was to say they would win and return safely? Arctic eyes shrouded in sorrow.

"Yeah, hopefully.

…

The sleigh was ready.

North had suited up each and every reindeer for the journey which supposedly would take only a few hours even with the use of one of his special snow globes. The man himself was dressed in the familiar attire of a thick wool coat and hat, woven in the signature red and black coloring.

Jack had taken the liberty of saying his goodbyes to Bunny and Sandy. The former had been far less emotional (who was Jack kidding, he didn't even care) compared to the latter whom Jack had spent a great deal of time conversing with. Sandy couldn't afford to speak at all, but what he lacked for in voice he made up with in expressions. If Jack couldn't tell what the little, round man was trying to say with his sand, then he would interpret by the look on the Sandman's face. It was just like playing charades, Jack had dimly realized.

Unsurprisingly, the most emotional out of everyone there was Baby Tooth who had come to hug her "mother" goodbye. Jack had never seen anyone cry so hard before, and he actually felt bad for what the little fairy was being put through. However, he channeled most of that energy into being mad at the moon for starting this in the first place. It was an irrational thought, but one that Jack couldn't help.

As the Guardians all piled into the sleigh for takeoff, Jack stood listlessly to the side. He couldn't believe that this was happening, not truly. And yet, here he was, helping Tooth pry off her little one from her lap. It was heart wrenching, and when Baby Tooth began squealing in terror, Jack couldn't ignore the flash of anger that returned full force. How desperately he wanted to teach the Man in the Moon a lesson or two.

Now, here he stood, clutching the little fairy in his hands, both as reassuring and to keep her from flying back towards Toothiana.

_How did this even happen?_

The Guardians all sat tersely in the seats of the sleigh, but no one made a motion to leave. North had yet to sit and was holding the reigns in his hands as he stood in front of the control panel of the machine. He stared long and hard at Jack as if debating to tell him something. Instead, he huffed a breath of hot air, and its steam spiraled in the chilled air.

He shuffled over to where Jack waited, eyes never dropping the firm gaze. He leaned towards the winter sprite, and Jack realized that he wanted to whisper something to him that the other Guardians wouldn't hear. He edged over towards the man, ignoring the inquisitive looks from the others.

North's breath was hot against his ear as he muttered thickly, "Remember what I said about Pitch."

Jack furrowed his eyebrows at what the guardians said, but nodded his head in affirmation. Satisfied, North leaned back and settled on his seat. He fixed Jack with a pointed look as if to make sure that the young spirit really understood. Jack stood rigidly, his face blank. He saw Tooth and Sandy share a worried glance, but ignored it. The words were meant for him and his ears alone.

North tightened his hold on the reigns of the sleigh, staring straight ahead. Jack thought he saw him blinking swiftly, but a second look showed only hardness in the elder guardian's eyes.

Jack took the time to look into the face of each of his friends. Baby Tooth was remaining uncharacteristically still in his hands, probably in shock. Jack refused to let anything but determination show in his posture and face. He didn't want the guardians' last image of him to be something of a broken, huddled mess.

Green, gold, magenta, blue. Jack memorized the hue of each guardians' irises, storing their compassionate looks into the storage of his brain. Who knew when he would see them again?

_Everyone I love…_

It was North who broke the silence of the icy cavern. Although he didn't meet Jack's gaze, the frostling could tell that he was struggling with leaving. Better to do it now than never.

"We'll be seeing you, Jack."

And then, they were gone. Sliding down the treacherous tunnels of North's underground passageway. The reindeer's hoofs echoed loudly from stampeding across the ice. Jack watched from the top of the cave sadly, his eyes gazing at the black hole into which they had disappeared. He wasn't sure when he would see them again, but he had to keep himself together if he was going to work in their place. He would have to work doubly hard spreading fun and cheer to all the children of the world.

North's parting words played around in his head. Remember what they had discussed. Don't forget what he was to do. Their conversation from earlier rewound and started again in his mind's eye.

"_I know Pitch has escaped the clutches of the shadows. However, Manny has informed me that they are the ones to have left him. As of now, he is stranded in his lair, unable to do anything of harm. But that does not mean that he should be ignored. So be wary of him. Know his constant location and routine. But most importantly…start a friendship with him."_

"_North, I can understand you want me to consistently be in the know-how of Pitch, but…a friendship? Really? Why bother? This _isPitch_ we're talking about, right? The Boogeyman? Aka the one who tried to take over the world not even a year ago?_

_North sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. "Yes, Jack, I'm _aware_. But Manny has told me that we might need Pitch on our side to fight the shadows, should things get out of hand. And amity with Pitch might not be as bad an idea as you think. Just give it a try."_

_Jack gaped at North in open astonishment. He…he couldn't possibly be _serious_, could he? There was no way…_

"_Jack, I am saying this with all sincerity right now. You must chance a friendship with Pitch no matter what your past. I myself am having a hard time even saying this, much less believing it, but Manny knows what is best an–"_

"_It always comes back down to him, huh?"_

"…_What?"_

_Jack sighed, rubbing his own hand against his forehead. It seemed that headaches were becoming more frequent as of late. Not surprising. _

"_It always comes back down to what the Man in the Moon says. 'Cause apparently he's all knowing or omniscient or whatever. I'm just sick and tired of what the stupid moon wants."_

_North gasped quietly and reached out a hand to lie on Jack's shoulder, but Jack shrugged him off. He stood before the youngest guardian in a mixture of disbelief and horror. _

"_Jack," his tone made the spirit wince, "You must understand that Man in Moon always knows what's best for us. Do you really consider us to be just pawns that do his bidding? No, Jack, no, no. We listen to him because we know that he fights for our lives just like we fight for his. We look out for each other, and when Manny–no, listen to me, don't roll your eyes–when Manny tells us something, we believe it. This is what you yourself said, yes? Jack, do not doubt the Man in the Moon now just because of a few hardships. It will not be that bad; you will see. Trust me when I say that I have complete faith in Manny and his decisions."_

"_You might, but I don't. I'm done with this."_

"_Jack, wait! Where are you going? Don't leave now!"_

_But Jack had already turned his back on North, one hand holding his staff while the other clenched tightly in the pocket of his sweater. North continued to call after him, but he made no move to forcibly stop him._

_The Guardians might have been brainwashed by Manny's lies and deceiving tact, but Jack refused to go down without a fight. He might have to go along with the guardians and their choice of leaving, but that didn't mean he had to agree with their actions._

_And he was hellbent to make sure that they knew it._

Jack snapped out of his thoughts when Baby Tooth let out a rather piercing whimper. Startled, the frostling looked down to find that his grip had tightened drastically around the little fairy_–_so much so that he was almost choking her.

In fact, it looked an awful lot like that day in Antarctica when a pale grey hand had clutched her in the same way…

Frowning, Jack let Baby Tooth loose out of his hand, and she flew up to his shoulder, finding purchase there.

As he turned around and began walking back inside the workshop, Jack began to seriously wonder how he would manage, how he would _survive_ his time alone without the other guardians. He had never considered how much time he actually spent with them, but now that they were gone, the old sense of loneliness began to creep back in.

Unconsciously shrugging his shoulders, Jack and Baby Tooth entered the surprisingly busy workshop. It seemed that the yetis hadn't stopped their work at all, nor were they going to anytime soon. At least Jack still had them to tease and annoy.

The frost spirit soared up into the air, alighting on the globe that spun slowly at the top. He should probably prepare for the substitutes that would be coming soon in place in the guardians. The thought of working with someone else, though, left a sickening feeling inside his gut. He tried to resist the nauseous, internal coil that threatened to make the contents of his stomach revolt.

Flying over to North's desk, Jack gazed at the maps which the round man had been looking over not thirty minutes ago. He would have to start with the substitute for North, making sure he was filled in on all the information he might need to run the workshop.

_But first things first._

Jack took a shuddering breath as a new type of fear gave birth inside his chest. His eyes squeezed shut frightfully. He wasn't looking forward to this. Not at all.

_I need to make contact with Pitch._

MiM help him. He needed any strength he could get.

…

Jack shifted on top of the tree branch he had been dozing on as he stirred awake. Another nightmare had plagued his mind during his precious sleep, exploiting his fears and rendering him useless. They were constant–these nightmares. They followed him wherever he went, always ready to invade his dreams. It was a constant reminder of what would always be.

Of course, the nightmares had been part of the bargain. It wasn't common or usual that someone would make a deal with the Boogeyman. Not too many of a brave soul would even consider becoming "acquaintances" with such a living terror. However, Jack specialized in different, and he had needed to do so to survive.

It wasn't like it was an unfair deal either. This wasn't some cheap shot where one individual tried to trick the other. No, the frost sprite got his share of the bargain as well. Protection was part of it. Who would have ever thought that _the_ Nightmare King, Pitch Black, would turn against every being fabricated into his body to guard _him_? A completely pompous jerk who turned out to be a very assertive, fatherly type? The thought made Jack scoff in disbelief every time. Life certainly was full of irony, and Pitch was a prime example.

A breeze whistled past Jack's ears and tossed the leaves in a brush of air. The wind was calling for its favorite companion. Jack watched the intangible streams of air lazily, lost in thought. For some reason, it reminded him of the day the Guardians had left in a very hasty and unexplained farewell. When would they return, they didn't know, or so they had said.

He recalled feeling alone and burdened by their departure. He had been given company, yes, but said company was not always the…best influence. In fact, the longer he thought about it, the harder it became for the wintry sprite to ever remember a time where Pitch had assisted him in a positive way.

The memory from that one, fateful day was slightly hazy in Jack's mind. He couldn't remember all the details of what occurred then, but that was understandable.

After all, it had happened only nineteen years ago.

* * *

**Thoughts? Comments? Notice any errors? Please feel free to let me know. I want to improve this story the best I can. See you in the next chapter!**


	2. What Lies Beneath a Mask

Chapter 2: What Lies Beneath a Mask

It wasn't until late Friday night that Sophie Bennett stumbled from the luxurious warmth of her car and into the biting cold of a quiet fall evening. Her car engine shuddered and died as it shut down for the night. As she stepped outside, the door groaned in protest, and she felt like doing the same. The heels of her feet were tired from another long day at the office, sending reports and discussing artistic ideas for children's books. Always, there was constant rushing about as deadlines were alarmingly close, and new concepts were suggested and designed on the spot to meet the popular demand.

Sophie honestly loved her job with her whole heart, but her body incessantly stated otherwise.

The soft clicking of her shoes resonated throughout the lobby as she walked to the elevator. _Just a little further_, she reminded herself as she pushed the button, and the doors _dinged! _open. It was empty in the building save for the young blonde, but it was to be expected. Folks in this complex rarely stayed up later than ten at night, and here she was walking in at a quarter to twelve.

When she reached the floor that housed her modest apartment, Sophie trudged down the hallway, her shoes padding softly against the plush carpet. Her hands found the key in her purse as she walked, and then slipped it into the lock once she reached her door.

_What a long day._

The girl quickly peeled off her high heels and kicked the door shut behind her. Her bed was nearly calling her name. She fumbled for the light switch alongside the wall, remembering that she hadn't eaten dinner yet. But as her fingers successfully found the switch, and light flooded the place, she decided that food could wait, sleep was more important.

_Screw dinner._

She rubbed a hand over her sleepy eyes and yawned. Yep, a warm bed with a mountain of cozy blankets sounded absolutely glorious right now–

A hand, cold and foreign, wrapped around her mouth, fingers squeezing her jaw.

Sophie screamed.

She bucked against the would-be attacker from behind, thrusting her elbow into the gut of the mysterious person. There was a subtle _oomph_ as she whirled around, poised and ready to strike. Her grip on her purse tightened as she swung it up into the air, aiming for the crouched over figure, realizing for the fiftieth time that she should invest in some mace–

And paused.

"J-_Jamie_?" She couldn't believe her own voice. Her arms stayed suspended above her head uncertainly.

Brown hair glinted in the faded lamp light as the man straightened. An arm wove protectively over his stomach; Sophie vaguely realized that it was probably from the solid hit he took from her jab.

"Ugh…you pack a mean elbow punch, Sis."

Emerald eyes widened in disbelief and joy.

"Jamie!"

She tackled her brother in a bone crushing hug–never mind that her blonde hair was already a mess. A surprised laugh bubbled from her throat as she squeezed the brunet. The previous thoughts of sleep vanished; all that mattered was that Jamie was _here_, Jamie, her brother. Gosh, it had been ages since she last seen him! How long was forever?

"Agh, nice to see you too, Soph," the older Bennett coughed out. She felt his arms move from underneath her as he struggled to return the hug. A warm smile crossed her face at seeing her brother again, but the sudden realization caused her to frown simply and step back.

She could see the surprise on Jamie's face as he arched an eyebrow at her constantly shifting emotions. _Well_, she huffed to herself, _I've always been emotionally imbalanced._

"By any chance, was that _you_ who scared the living daylights out of me?" She crossed her arms as her eyes mockingly narrowed.

"No, Soph, it was the Boogeyman." The brunet rolled his eyes to the ceiling, something that made the girl's frown deepen. "Who else would it be?"

She humphed a reply, but as she looked away, the slow smile couldn't be prevented from growing on her face. Instead, she shook her head with a small, knowing sigh. Her eyes sparkled with a gleam of mischievousness as she gazed back cynically at her brother, "Excuse me for being the one to crap my pants out of sheer terror. It's not every day that your one, nonexistent sibling decides to sneak up on you in your apartment."

Jamie gave an apologetic smile as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged. Sophie found that she couldn't stay mad at her brother, even if she tried. Maybe they had just missed out on that sibling rivalry that seems to be so stereotypical these days, but whatever the case, she and Jamie could never hold a grudge against each other for long.

"I just got back from my job up in New York. Flew in to see you, see how you're doing. Have you talked to Mom any?"

The girl shook her head, blonde hair whisking gently across her face. "Not recently. She's been staying home most of the time, but that's what she told me last I saw her. I'm not sure if she's doing anything now–at least not anymore. Although, Mom did say that she's wants to see her grandkids before she's old and gray." Sophie shot him a cheesy grin.

The auburn boy chuckled quietly. Sophie secretly knew that he had a crush on Pippa, the girl from his childhood, but had never done anything about it.

"You need to get a date Jamie! It's not right for you to become an old bachelor."

"And it is for you?" he shot back. Jamie ran a hand through his ruffled hair and sighed. Sophie almost pitied him, but to have her own words thrown back at her? Of course, she had considered finding a date worthy guy, but her mind had lately been more focused on work and college than men. With a career like hers set ahead in the future, who was she to complain?

"Soph, you're twenty-one years old now. I can't tell you what to do–well, I could, but it's not like you'd listen," he paused as a small smile crossed his face, "–but you do have to consider yourself for a moment. You throw yourself in your work–don't even get me started on college–and you save no time for yourself. Not even five minutes ago you were trudging in here, looking exhausted. Do you take any breaks?" He threw his hands up in the air. "Any at all?"

Jamie watched his sister with an impassive face, but Sophie knew better than to think that he was anywhere near calm about the matter. He was always wearing a façade, always…

Pain from an unknown source swelled inside her chest. He had just accused her of the very thing he was guilty of. It was astonishingly hypocritical, and it made Sophie want to grab Jamie's shoulders and shake some sense into him. He had no right, absolutely no right. She clenched her hands into tight fists, lips pursed.

"Sophie," the cheerful tint to his voice was gone, replaced with a brotherly firmness that she both loved and dreaded, "I'm not going to argue with you over finding a soul mate. But I do think you work too hard, and," his chestnut eyes resembled something close to resentment, "I just want you to know that I'm here for you whenever you need me. I wished I had paid more attention to you sooner. It's obvious that you haven't taken a break in ages. Heck, I bet you can't even remember your last break. So, please, just consider settling down for a while. Just to breathe again."

The younger Bennett smiled wistfully at her sibling. She knew it was never going to happen. He would never get married–hell, he was twenty-nine years old, heading for thirty–and she would never give up her job. They were both too consumed with what they loved that they couldn't give it up.

She knew that he sensed it as well by the way his shoulders drooped in defeat. She should console him, she really should, but Sophie had a feeling that promising empty lies would just tear them up even more in the future. However, she could still cheer him up. She couldn't blame him for everything, after all. If there was anything the Bennett family was good at, it was wearing a facial mask.

"Do you remember Jack Frost?"

It was a low blow, but the only thing she could come across in her memory that would brighten Jamie up. And just like that, his imaginative eyes were shining again as they attained a faraway look in them. Jamie would always live in his childhood, even as he matured as an adult. His very job was proof of that.

The boy flashed her a lopsided grin, as if he knew what she was trying to do. Nonetheless, he decided to play along, sitting on the back of a sofa, one leg swinging. "Of course I do. Didn't he visit you last year? He promised me that he would stop by to check on you."

"No… I haven't seen him in at least four years," she eyed him curiously. "Remember at my high school graduation? Bunny was there too which was a _real_ _surprise,_ considering those two don't get along well at all. But I haven't seen him since then."

At the disgruntled expression on Jamie's face, she quickly backtracked on her words. "I mean, yeah, he might have promised you, but you know how Jack is. He has the attention span of a gnat." She paused for a second, considering her brother's stance, "And he might have had to do other guardian work. I doubt he'd just skip out like that on purpose."

"Yeah, yeah. Though next time I see him, I'll make sure he doesn't get away without an earful from me. Some guardian he is," he muttered, eyes downcast.

Sophie laughed good-naturedly. "You do that, Mr. Grudge Holder. Anyways, that's beside the point. How's your job going?"

"Great! 'Cept, I'm afraid I got some not-so-good news. You remember how I was told that I might have to go researching for some certain projects in other countries? Well, it turns out that they recently decided to animate a children's novel that seems to have caught the public's eye, and I have to go visit the author in an impromptu meeting to discuss the situation. Apparently, he has some issues with how we might go about creating the movie, and I have to fly to his home in Scotland to talk with him. Really annoying, I know. But my boss wants to have one of his personnel talk to this author face to face, and the guy refuses to fly overseas here."

Jamie took a deep breath, meeting Sophie's gaze. She could see that he was frustrated with the entire affair, but it wasn't like he could do anything about it.

"So, my plane leaves next week. Monday, actually. And I didn't know if I'd get another chance to see you before then which is why I decided to drive to your apartment and see you tonight." He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. She could tell by the way his eyes never wavered from hers that he was hoping she'd understand, that she would forgive.

She gave a smile that wasn't all too sincere and nodded. Fortunately, Jamie appeared to be satisfied with her reaction and continued.

"I'm not sure when I'll get back, but it shouldn't be too long. At least a week, two at most. My boss thinks that while I'm over in Scotland, I should explore the culture and religious areas for future referencing to any other movies we might make."

He leaned back, stretching his arms and back, a huge yawn claimed his mouth. Sophie found herself doing the same thing as her eyes began to glass over with exhaustion. The brunet saw his little sister's tired yawn, and he stood up from the couch.

"Well, I'm off. You should get some sleep, Sis. It's obviously been a long week for you, too."

Sophie met his arms in a warm embrace, inhaling his scent of pine. She clutched her hands tightly behind his back, wishing that she didn't have to let go. It was so rare that she saw him, and now, he would be making an extensive journey overseas for some silly meeting. It all seemed stupid to her…

Reluctantly, she pulled apart from him. No use crying over spilled milk, as Jamie would always say.

"Be sure to visit again, soon," she glared at him with a look that told her brother she was not forgetting this any time soon. He gave her a mock salute, cheeky grin back in full swing.

"Will do."

When they had finally said their goodbyes, and Jamie had left, Sophie trudged over to the adjoining room with the warm bed that called out to her. Deep down, she knew that her brother was just looking out for her, but it didn't change the fact that he was dealing with life in a secluded manner. The older Bennett sibling was known to hiding his past away from everyone else, and never would he share his personal struggles with anyone. It was an extremely unhealthy habit that he had fallen into. Sophie was at a loss of what to do. Maybe she should take Jamie's advice–he might just follow her lead.

Dismissing the rest of her worries, Sophie curled up under the blankets on her mattress. Although, before sleep could claim her weary consciousness, there was one thought that sneaked past her tired defenses, and caused the girl to frown.

The young adult began to wonder if something had possibly happened to Jack Frost and the guardians. Something that was more in depth than just protecting children.

She succumbed to the blissful dark before the thought could continue.

…

Jack flew over the city of Ankara, Turkey, leisurely spying the place for nightmares. There had been surprisingly little action tonight, it seemed as though the nightmares' standard feeding fest had died down considerably in the past months. Jack knew that the world would never be fully cleansed of shadows, but he could rest in the knowledge that he and the former Nightmare King had teamed up to recapture them all.

For the past nineteen years, Jack and Pitch had formed a strange sort of endurance for one another. It wasn't necessarily a friendship, but it wasn't a distant relationship either. Pitch seemed to feel the constant need to prove his assertiveness over Jack, and as of such, it had created a sort of dominance relationship. It was strange, to say the least, but the more he thought about it, the more Jack seemed to like it.

As time had worn on, the two spirits had come to the conclusion that ever since the nightmares had left Pitch, they had begun to run rampant over the world. It was through grudging humility (Pitch hadn't been too fond of Jack at the time, still recalling his defeat because of the white-haired brat) that an alliance had formed. Together, they had stopped countless nightmares from their nightly tortures, and Pitch brought them back under his rule with an iron fist.

Jack had feared that Pitch would once again regain all his power to rise up and attack the guardians or the children, but years after had proven that the Nightmare King was no longer existent truly, and it was just Pitch Black. There would be times when the frostling would catch a glimpse of the former shadow being in the Boogeyman's golden eyes, but it would be gone in a flash.

"A mere setback to memory," Pitch would say, and to this day, Jack still wondered what he meant.

There was no doubt that the Guardian of Fun had come to enjoy his time with the older spirit, power issues aside. Pitch was interesting company, and while he liked to constantly tease Jack over the fact that he had been left behind while the other guardians went to the moon, he was also the only one suitable for an intelligent conversation. Now, he and Jack worked together as a perfect pair on a team, more than a dynamic duo.

_Cold and Dark…_

"Behind you!"

Jack jumped at the warning and nearly stumbled over himself in the process of spinning around. There, hiding in the protective cover of a darkened alley, was a single nightmare. By the position of its steadied legs and lowered neck, Jack could tell that it was ready to attack.

Before he could make a move, however, the nightmare shot forward, jaws snapping, eyes flashing dangerously. Jack had only a moment to brace himself for the collision. His eyes widened as his arms slowly tried to protect his face.

The first thing he felt was hot, moldy breath on his face. A split second later, unfathomable pain shot through Jack's nerves in his forearm. He reared back, shrieking, trying to dislodge his arm from those hideous, jagged teeth, but his arm was stuck and the horse wouldn't let go, and gods above, he needed to escape from the pain, why couldn't he escape–

A furious cry rattled from the side, and the nightmare suddenly stepped back. Her jaw unclenched from Jack's arm. Jack didn't waste a second flying backwards as he gripped the wound tightly. His teeth gnashed in pain from the bite.

"Whoa there, girl! Easy… calm down. No one's going to hurt you. Shh… that's my girl. Yes… What an obedient darling you are."

Jack winced at the electric pulsing in his arm, but he glanced up at the now calm nightmare a few steps away from him.

There, in a shell of his former glory, stood the dethroned Nightmare King. He looked completely out of place by the way his hand soothingly rubbed circles on the mare's back. His face was blank, but a hint of a reassurance curled in his lips. His other hand traveled around slowly to rest on the horse's snout. The creature blew a pleased breath out its nostrils, quieting in the attention of its master.

Jack stood aloof, watching the scene unfold with wide eyes. He had seen this happen many times before, and yet, it still succeeded in bewildering him even more.

"_Onyx_?" Pitch breathed out in surprise, his voice never rising above a whisper, "Is it truly you, my beauty? I had nearly given you up for good. What a surprise it is to find you here, of all places, being intimidated by little frost spirits in blue."

Indignation burned in Jack's chest despite his wound, "Hey, she's the one who bit me!"

"Only in retaliation to her fear of you," Pitch replied coolly, eyes never leaving the mare.

"Of _me_? I scared _her_?" Jack almost threw his arms up in the air in disbelief, but remembered the biting pain he was trying to numb. "I'm not the one who goes around terrorizing little kids! If anything, I should be scared of– "He stopped midsentence, regretting his choice of words immediately.

"Who, Jack?" the Boogeyman looked at him, a devious grin showcasing his sharp teeth. It set the winter sprite on edge. "Scared of whom? Surely, you don't mean the nightmare. You defeated them, remember? Or has that little detail evaded your memory as well?"

The look Pitch was giving him caused a painful reminder from the past to emerge in Jack's mind. Instinct told him to tread lightly, lest he fall prey to another one of Pitch's manipulations. "Of course I'm talking about the nightmare. And I didn't mean I was scared _of_ her. I was trying to say–"

"Yes, yes, don't we all. Crystal clear, hmm, Jack? But in regards to your question, Onyx was terrorized of you only because you are a guardian. You represent the light that she scorns. It is because of you that she has to flee on sight." He gestured to her shuddering ribs. "Look at her now. Observe her ragged breathing. If you would take care to pay attention to her seemingly insignificant body language, you would realize that she is suffering from malnourishment. Lack of food. You are the cause of her suffering, as so many other nightmares. They need fear to thrive just as you need snow and frigid temperatures. And without it, they lose any measly strength they formally had."

Pitch stepped away from the nightmare, soundlessly gliding across pavement towards Jack. The guardian narrowed his eyes in warning, but he ignored the urge almost shouting at him to raise his staff.

_We had a deal. Pitch promised._

"Onyx here is a perfect example of your fickleness. You beg and plead and threaten others to leave you alone so that you can enjoy your frosty days and chilled nights, but you never stop to consider the problems of other spirits and fae. Why, even a single shadow throws you off balance, and you become the very thing that you accuse others of attempting! Let's consider the facts here," Pitch stopped directly in front of him, holding up a hand.

"Do you always talk this much?" Jack gritted his teeth in agitation. He'd be damned if he had to endure any of Pitch Black's boring monologues.

_How did we even get on this topic?_

The dark spirit ignored him. He began to tick off his fingers, one by one. "You obviously hold no concern for the shadows, so that's one. You constantly feel the need to impose others so that they won't intimidate you. That's two." Pitch's smirk never left his face as he leaned down to Jack's level.

"Three and four, you suppress yourself from crowds or any gatherings, _and_ you never voice your opinion, but you demand to be informed of all situations that clearly are none of your business. All in all, by just glancing at the facts, I'd say you're a hypocrite, Jack Frost. Not to mention selfish, heartless, and uncaring. Oh, and let's not forget a bully as well. Definitely a pushy guy."

"What makes you think that you can just stand there and spout off lies about me when you don't even know who I am? Huh?" Jack glared twice as hard at the imposing face inches from his own, anger seeping into his voice. "Answer me, _Pitch_!"

To his surprise, the Boogeyman did not respond in anger. Instead, his expression remained blank, but Jack did not miss the flicker of satisfaction in the golden eyes. It caused him to hesitate for a brief moment, wondering, then his challenging grimace was back in place.

"Poor frost spirit you," he whispered, "Absolutely pitiful. Do I lie, Jack? What would I gain from lying to you? Nothing, of course, which is why everything that I just stated is true."

Pitch straightened to his full height again, glaring down his long, angular nose at the frost child.

"You should know me well enough by now, snowflake, that your fears trump any other word that might fall from your mouth. You project them astonishingly loud and proud. You fear each of these characteristics about you because you know they are true. And while I will say that you sometimes extend a hint of humanity towards other people and beings, it does not change the fact that you are a hypocrite."

…_What?_

Pitch slipped a finger underneath Jack's chin, tilting his head up to meet that blue-eyed gaze. "An incredibly lost one."

Breathing heavily, Jack slid his eyes shut. He ignored the lingering stare of Pitch and Onyx, ignored the city's faint background noise, ignored the moon that threatened to show overhead from behind the clouds.

The frightening part about Pitch's whole analysis was that it _was_ true. He was a hypocrite, though not always intentional like Pitch made it out to be. He didn't like to hurt people, but he knew it had become a subconscious reaction due to his time spent in icy isolation.

Jack wanted to change, he _knew_ he could, but he wasn't sure how.

"Do you want to remedy this little problem of yours, snowflake?" Pitch's breath was disturbingly hot and moist on his ear as he leaned closer. "Do you want to change?"

As if he had read his thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, Jack's eyes slowly crept up to meet Pitch's incriminating ones. He felt nothing but burning lassitude. It was the same pointless argument they had at night, every night, on whether Jack would recant his guardianship. Despite having worked alongside Pitch for nineteen years, he was still faced with the relentless pursuit of a certain Boogeyman.

"For the last time, Pitch," Jack growled, "I won't join you and your crazy quest to conquer the world, nor will I ever."

Pitch leaned back and sighed. He gave Jack an exasperated look and said, "I'm not talking about you joining on a petty whim to reclaim the shadows. They wouldn't rejoin me anyways, seeing as how I'm no longer possessed."

Confused, glacial blue eyes contrasted with gold. Jack stared for a moment, mulling over Pitch's words. Their conversation reminded him of the first time he'd revisited Pitch after his defeat. He had referenced it then, but never fully explained what it meant by being free of the shadows.

_Maybe not as evil?_

"If the shadows don't listen to you anymore, then how come we're rounding up the nightmares? Wouldn't they leave you too? 'Cause they sure seem to be fine hanging out in your lair."

A ghost of a smirk edged up over pale lips. "As I've said before in the past, the nightmares are different compared to the other dark creatures that roam the world. Nightmare men are a solicitous bunch, always worrying about their own welfare. They live to pry off the fear of anyone they find. Fearlings are the epitome of destruction. Very fickle by nature, they obey the command of the one who shows the most promise to power.

"Mind you, they don't have to possess a person or being to willingly follow his beck and call. It matters only where that person's state of heart is."

Jack bit his lip to refrain himself from saying something he would regret. But if what Pitch said was true…

"Sooo… you used to care about others? Is that why you were possessed?"

"I'm not completely heartless, Jack."

The winter spirit almost instantly doubled over with laughter, disbelief causing his mirth.

"You? You're not heartless?" Jack scoffed, a maniac grin showing his pearly teeth. "Please. You are about as heartless as they come. Unless you've always been taught to hate children–"

Jack was choked off by a grey hand that wrapped around his throat and slammed him into a brick wall, holding him there. Stunned, he snapped his throbbing head and looked at Pitch. He almost wished he hadn't.

Pitch was absolutely furious. His tongue rolled behind his jagged teeth as he positively seethed. His eyes narrowed into thin slits.

"You think_ I _hate_ children_?" he hissed in anger. "_Do you_?!"

Jack just stood there, eyes wide. He clutched at the unrelenting hand around his throat, but the sudden drop of fear in his stomach made him stop all resistance. The look Pitch was giving him made him want to curl in on himself and hide from the shadows that seemed to pool around Pitch from nowhere. He saw that it was darker in the vicinity and dismally realized that it was probably due to Pitch's unexpected anger.

Then, a switch seemed to go off in Pitch. He nonchalantly dropped his hand and looked away with a blank expression as if nothing had happened. He stepped away from the frost spirit, but Jack didn't move at first.

He lifted a hand to his throat, as if unable to believe any of that had just happened. Pitch was acting completely indifferent right now, and it confused him to no end. He got the vague impression that he was walking on eggshells.

"…Pitch?"

The tall being barely glanced in Jack's direction before he melted into the shadows. His voice echoed faintly around Jack.

"_You best continue searching for nightmares. I'll be around if you need me_."

Jack immediately jumped away from the wall, brows furrowing in frustration. If Pitch thought he could threaten Jack like that and then just _leave_, he was dead wrong.

"Pitch!"

His yell went unheard as it bounced off the vacant streets and walls. Jack stood there for another moment, letting his shoulders drop when he didn't receive a response, and the lighting returned to normal. Sighing, he looked down at his staff. He hadn't even thought to use it when Pitch cornered him. Had he really gotten that used to the other's presence? Since when did he ever trust the Boogeyman?

Sighing once again, Jack lifted off the ground and soared over the buildings. His eyes flitted over the area without seeing.

What was Pitch's problem? It was obvious that he had been affected by Jack's teasing, but he never had reacted so violently before. Usually, it was just a glare or a snide remark thrown his way in return, but never… violence. Jack hadn't thought that the mention of children would raise the degree in Pitch's outbursts. Maybe there _had_ been something in his past. Something that would trigger such a swift response.

Jack twirled in the air, letting himself freefall occasionally before the wind would pick him up again. His arm _hurt_. Usually, he would use his ice to numb the pain, but it didn't seem to be having any effect on the constant throbbing in his nerves. He would have to inspect the injury later.

_Hopefully, it isn't too bad._

A flash of black to his left caused Jack to instantly stop in his direction of flying and turn.

_Pitch_, he instantly thought. This was it; he would talk to Pitch and figure out what the heck was bothering him.

As Jack raced off after the shadow, he realized that it was not Pitch at all. Instead, the darkened figure was the proud figure of a galloping steed. Jack felt his body hum with the excitement of the chase. He rapidly dove after the nightmare, following within close range around graphitized walls and narrow alleys. His hand clutched the near forgotten staff in his fist tightly.

The two sprinted over a slanted rooftop when Jack cornered the nightmare in front of a fire escape stairwell. The horse turned around to face its opponent, breath flying out of its nostrils, heavy and agitated. Jack was readying to yell for Pitch to come grab the fey nightmare when it suddenly stopped pawing the ground and lowered its head. Curious as to the personality switch, Jack hovered closer warily, keeping his shepherd's staff pointed at the horse.

A ripple shuddered through the nightmare. The haunted, yellow hunger of its eyes slowly inclined to look at Jack. He shivered at the smirk that seemed to gleam in its sight.

With a tremendous bray, the nightmare tossed its head back and began to _change_ shape. Its legs grew slimmer and longer, hair elongating on both sides. Shadowed seaweed sprouted from its mane as it grew scragglier and more bristled. The snout and skull grew in size; it peeled back to reveal a more hideous, terrifying horse head. Teeth bared in a warning growl as the pointed ears became more jagged but prominent. Even the body and tail turned as the ribs drew inward and the tail extended. More waterweed slithered and tangled with the hair.

Jack stood in horror, gaping at the deformed sight. He felt if he were to rub his hand over its disheveled back that the hair would never smooth over and only become coarser.

After the transformation had taken shape, the horse swished its mane and tail, causing a vicious bout of shadows to susurrate around it. Its hooves stomped the ground heavily as it stared Jack in the eye.

Jack took a cautious step back, marveling at the strange wonder. The spike of fear he felt couldn't have been for any other reason than uncertainty, and the nightmare tossed its head in delight at the taste. However, when Jack tried again to yell for Pitch, the horse leaped into the air over Jack and disappeared into the night.

Jack was soaring in the air before he realized it. He swept the area, scanning for any sign of living shadows. The chase proved fruitless, however. The nightmare had completely vanished from sight, along with any evidence of the strange incident ever occurring. Pitch would never believe him.

Casting a final, parting glance into the sky, Jack decided to call it a night and began his final trek to Pitch's lair for the evening. He would have to talk with him to discuss the unusual nightmare, as well as Pitch's earlier reaction to Jack's outburst.

The wind pushed at his back as he headed for the Boogeyman's home.

…

Pitch proved to be a night owl, unsurprisingly.

Jack found the grey skinned spirit sitting in a comfortable armchair, legs dangling lazily over the side. He held a book in his hand; though it was evident he had stopped reading as soon as Jack entered his abode. It was one of the few rooms that Pitch had hollowed out and decorated for a more refinished polish to his style of living. A fireplace encased in black marble sat behind Pitch, but it remained unlit. Sporadic candles permeated the room with light instead. The flames resulted in shadows dancing and coiling along the rough walls. Jack wondered if any of them were real or not. Jack had only been in this room a few times himself. It looked as ominous as ever.

"You're back later than usual, tonight."

Pitch was closing his book and rising from his chair as Jack sauntered into room, kicking the door shut behind him with a bang. He ignored the scowl Pitch shot him.

"Yeah, well, I saw some weird stuff while searching for nightmares _alone_."

"Hmm." Pitch's lack of emotion in his tone showed he cared none at all for leaving Jack to fend for himself. His half-hearted response caused a burst of anger to erupt inside Jack.

The frost sprite flew up to Pitch, icing the cup that the Boogeyman was reaching for. The air whistled past Pitch's lips as a look of exasperation crossed his face. He looked as though he wanted to tell Jack to get lost, but Jack cut him off.

"I want to know why you reacted the way you did back in the alley. _And_," he waved Pitch's attempt to interrupt again, "I want to hear the truth. Not just some watered down rendition of how it was an involuntary response or something. Because that…," he tapped the staff against the wooden floor, and ice sparked from the bottom. "That was no involuntary response."

There was a beat of silence as the two stared each other down, waiting to see who would break eye contact first. Jack soon looked away as the uncomfortable fear from before began to swell in his stomach again.

"Do I get a chance to speak, now?" Jack could hear the smirk in his voice.

Still not making eye contact, he nodded.

"Very well. If you must know, the incident in the alley was an involuntary reaction, believe it or not." Pitch's voice smoothed over Jack, but he couldn't help the instantaneous urge to shake his head in denial. Pitch ignored his blatant disbelief. "I do not usually react to petty words with such volatile force. So you have my sincerest apologies." He could feel Pitch's eyes on him. "There, satisfied?"

Jack rolled his eyes as he breathed out a dry laugh. "Really? You call that an explanation? Wh– What makes you think I'm gonna settle for an excuse of an answer like that? I don't want your apology; I want the truth. C'mon, Pitch. Nineteen years hasn't done anything to you?"

"Nineteen years of seeing your face has not been very enlightening, no."

"Hey!" Jack replied, indignant. He frowned, unimpressed, but let it go. "That's not my point, so stop trying to weasel your way out of this one. I just want to know what triggered such a response from you. 'Cause that was no' involuntary reaction'. It must have been something I said. The fact that you're selfish? That you hate children? That you passionately tor–"

He paused at the feral snarl Pitch shot him, teeth bared. Jack jumped onto his staff and crouched on it, pointing a finger in Pitch's face. He wasn't sure why, but eliciting this sort of reaction out of Pitch was causing him to smile in triumph. He nearly bounced up and down on the balls of his feet.

"See! This is exactly what I'm talking about!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Now, the question is…why? You never did answer me back in the alley, you know."

Pitch turned away from the frost spirit and shot a look upward. Briefly, Jack followed his gaze only to see an invisible ceiling. There was no way to tell just how high it extended due to the shadows painted across it. He wondered if this was Pitch's favorite room. The disguised height difference caused it to appear more lofty and comfortable.

_Huh._

When he looked back down, Jack was startled to see ecliptic eyes boring into him. He jumped away, surprised, and lost his footing in his perch. He stumbled off it, then had the wind land him lightly on his feet. Blinking, he looked back up at Pitch as if he had intended it. The other spirit just arched an eyebrow.

"Well, if that will be all…," he cleared his throat awkwardly.

Jack snorted. _Figures_, he thought. If Pitch wasn't going to answer him now, then he could always try again later when he wasn't in such an irritable mood.

"Um, actually, no. There was something else I saw tonight while I was looking for nightmares _alone_," he emphasized again, giving Pitch a pointed look. "There was this… one nightmare I came across, and it was… Well, I'll spare you the details. Basically, this nightmare came out of nowhere, and I cornered it, but then it began to turn into some other creature. It was really weird, and I was going to call you to come get it, but I guess I got caught up in the moment," he gave Pitch a sheepish grin. "Anyways, it morphed into this ho– _ugly_ version of itself. The nightmare looked like some kind of evil monster, what with all the seaweed falling out of its hair, and I… _Are you ok_?"

Pitch was breathing heavily, chest rising and falling rapidly, his eyes were wide in shock. Jack almost thought that Pitch was scared of something, but that couldn't be right, could it?

This was the second time in the same night that Jack had witnessed Pitch look like someone else entirely. Remembering the consequences from last time, Jack decided to play it safe and consider his choice of words. He didn't want to upset Pitch, and he also didn't highly favor being thrown about the rough cave walls that lined the room.

"Uh, Pitch? What is it?" he asked timidly, "Is it something I need to know? Does it have to deal with the nightmare?"

Pitch's gilded eyes no longer stared at him, but over his shoulder. They seemed to see nothing and everything, looking incredibly clouded over. Pitch looked as though he knew something about the nightmare; something that wasn't _good_. His expression was a mask of horror, as his jaw went slack. He must have connected a danger between what Jack saw and what it could potentially mean, like a sign or something, and Pitch wasn't sharing anything. Well, Jack wasn't going to have any of that.

Brows furrowing in agitation, Jack forgot his attempts at trying to be calm and slammed the end of his staff onto the floor. Ice shards immediately shot out and covered the entire wood in a treacherous blue glaze. It caused the room to flash briefly in the pale light before the shadows crept around once more. The flames of the candles blew out at the burst of wind that warped in the room, but Jack couldn't care less.

"Dangit, tell me, Pitch! What. Is. The problem?" He spat out each word and ground his teeth. Normally, he would have been shocked at his own behavior, but if this nightmare posed a problem to the children or guardians, then he wanted to know.

Pitch flinched back from the sudden display, but it snapped him out of his shock. He blinked, looking at Jack as if he was seeing him for the first time, then turned his back on the frost spirit. Jack saw silver swirls along the edges of Pitch's robe, some sprouting higher than others; it was the aftermath of his frost lightning.

"It's nothing, nothing at all," Pitch whispered. Jack had to strain to hear him. "Just a distant memory is all. …You should get some sleep, snowflake." That last thought sounded like a misguided attempt at dampening the tension in the room.

"Pitch! Come back! You can't just leave me in the dark again!" It took him a moment to realize the double innuendo in his own words.

Jack glared at Pitch's back, his knuckles turned a shade whiter as he clenched them tightly. He was about to stomp after him, grab Pitch by the shoulder and spin him around, make him _talk_ when a thought suddenly occurred to him. Maybe this was why Pitch was acting so disclosed. Maybe he was reacting exactly as Jack would have done in the past, an unborn desire to keep the unknown hidden for as long as possible. Of course, the first time Jack had done that was on a rather fearful and selfish scale. He hadn't wanted the guardians to know about his past, afraid of what they might think, if they would later reject him because of what he might have been as a human.

Pitch had been the first to point that out for him quite readily. Jack had taken his words with a grain of salt, but he hadn't realized then that the reason he was retaliating in the way he did was because what Pitch was saying was true. Never before had anyone been able to lay out his fears so easily. Not even some of the other, more morbid spirits and fae that he had come across were able to do such a thing.

But then, he had met the Nightmare King.

On a quest for vengeance, Pitch Black had been desperate for a way to strike back at the guardians, make them fall. He did find his opening, eventually. Through the confused frost spirit himself. In all his years of existence, Jack had never needed to worry that his deepest and darkest secrets would be revealed. No one could see him, and no one ever really talked to him. There had been times when Jack would sit back and talk to the shadows themselves, just to find some form of company. He had never considered the fact that someone might inhabit those shadows.

Maybe, after all this time, Pitch was right. As he had always been. Maybe this was why he was always reacting with such force and violence. Like Pitch, he had thirst for answers. He wouldn't, _couldn't_ be left in the dark. Humans used knowledge retained from the past to survive, right? Perhaps this was that same inner drive that Jack felt. He felt as though if he did not know the information or knowledge of a certain, potentially dangerous matter, then he would not be accounted for his actions. Maybe it was his kryptonite. But Jack knew that it was also his greatest fear, just as Pitch had told him.

His fear was of the unknown.

Now, as Jack looked after the retreating form of the former Nightmare King, he couldn't help but envision himself. It was him who was leaving. It was him who was fleeing from the danger. It was him–

"Get some rest, Jack. You could use it."

With those parting words, Pitch melted into the shadows. Jack stared listlessly at the spot where Pitch had just stood. He wondered if that had been an edge of sympathy in his smooth voice. It didn't seem possible, and it wasn't likely that he would show feelings of concern for the frostling, but Jack couldn't help the wonder that ebbed in his mind at the possibility. Something inside him told him that maybe, just maybe, Pitch was changing for the better. Maybe he was finally beginning to rub off on the Boogeyman.

_Who would have known?_

A thin smile curled on his pale lips before he turned and found a lone couch on the far side of the room. As he settled on the cushions, his mind wandered as to what Pitch might be thinking about right now. No doubt he was lonely, but then again, millennia of solitude could do that to an individual. Jack hadn't experienced it for as long as Pitch, but the three hundred years of being ignored had done their share acutely.

Jack curled up into the crook of the couch, letting his staff fall to the floor. If Pitch wanted to take him down, he would have done it years ago when they had first started searching for nightmares together. He was safe, for now.

Sleep waited to pull him under. Jack soon tuned out the rest of world as he fell unconscious in the knowledge that he would be protected by the ever present vigilance of Pitch and his shadows. He clutched his wounded forearm tightly, unknowingly numbing the pain he felt from earlier.

The smile had yet to leave his face.

* * *

**Can anyone guess what the nightmare was? **

**Reviews are motivation. :)**


	3. Deception

**A/N: Am I doing something wrong? I can't help but feel disheartened at the lack of response I've received so far. So, I'm not really sure if anyone's enjoying the story yet. Maybe it's too early to judge anything, but still. Thanks to those who have favorited, followed, and reviewed. I appreciate it very much, so thanks a bunch! **

**This chapter is dedicated in honor of the lovely author, Her Head in the Clouds. Her work is amazing, and I highly recommend you check out her fanfic "Project GUARDIAN: The Rise and Fall". Amazing, fantastic AU. **

**Character death (OC) in the beginning of the chapter. So, violence warning. Not too graphic, but implied.**

* * *

Chapter 3: Deception

Animated screams of joy rippled throughout the afternoon as children chased each other, fancying themselves a game of tag, running about without a care in the world. They lived in an imagination wrought with fantasy, where princesses and dukes and kings and queens all dwelt peacefully together. Here, the hero was always the conqueror, slaying dragons and rescuing the fairy tale maiden. Any form of evil was minute and easily destroyed because why shouldn't the hero be able to efficiently dispose of it?

That is what many of the children told themselves as they ran about in this fantasy land, splashing each other in the stream, and wooden sticks suddenly being conjured into mighty, steel swords. Their parents were not too far away, should any child accidently fall and scrape his knee, but distant enough so that they felt their kids had a decent amount of playing space. Besides, this area, heavily guarded by surrounding trees, was more than safe for all the little youngsters.

It had always been safe before, so why not now?

One of the children shrieked in surprise and delight as she was tagged by one of her childhood friends. Twisting on her heel, she ran with arms outstretched, ready to tackle the nearest person who dared step closer. The boys and girls split off in opposite directions. It was every man for himself.

The stream was more of a lake, if anything, and the shoreline was just within reach. The water was called a stream merely for the wide, shallow bed lined with pebbles and sand. If one were to progress into the water away from the trees, it would steadily grow deeper, thus transforming into a lake. No one was sure how deep it was; the adults plainly ordered their children to steer clear of venturing too far into the lake's bosom. The surface was calm enough, but the bottom was a hazardous mystery.

Perhaps it had been a rather dull and uneventful day, what with the overcast sky and slight drizzle of rain. Something in the air puled for the children's attention, though, and curiosity was not one to be easily ignored.

One of the boys, an eager blond lad, pointed excitedly at the forbidden water's edge and suggested going for a fun swim. Of course, however, the parents were watching them,–another girl in cute, auburn pigtails protested–but the worry was soon voted out as other children figured their parents would not miss them for just a few minutes. The adults weren't even looking their way!

And, so, the blond-haired boy who had first initiated the idea decided to lead the unconvinced group of playmates out into the water. It was not long before they all decided to join him; they squealed in delight as the water lapped at their ankles and legs, creating rivulets on their damp clothes, and wasn't this just so much fun?

Seconds elapsed into minutes, and then into a half hour, and still, no sign of danger lurked nearby. Slowly, the kids began to forget their concern and all prior fuss. The lake was by far much more fun than the stream they had tottered about in. The water was a gentle sway around their waists in this area. It was a wonder, with all the commotion and screams of happiness that echoed from the noisy bunch, that the parents never even took notice of their relocated children. Perhaps they were all engaged in a serious conversation of the olden days–the youngsters didn't care.

They continued on in their fantasy leagues, princesses dubbing dukes and so forth. Occasionally, a prince would enter the castle-like scene, but otherwise, the males were the valiant warriors and heroes who defended the princesses.

The clouds had still continued to shed a light rain, bouncing on the water it landed upon, when a shriek, very different in comparison to the others that spoke of insurmountable joy, resonated from the far side of the lake.

It was the girl in pigtails–the one who had been the first to voice her worries about the lake. Her eyes were wide with fright, mouth open in a terrified scream.

All the children stopped their playing activities to stare at the cause of the little girl's sudden fear. She stood in the waist deep water, hand on a beautiful, dark green pelt of a horse, tall and riveting in the lake. It was evident that the girl had placed her hand on the back of the creature in a confused mixture of awe and curiosity. But now, as she writhed and screamed wildly, her body would pull in the opposite direction of the horse, but her hand would not.

The animal turned its head, the smooth down of its coat peeling back to reveal a most hideous and ghastly face. Its mane shivered and lengthened in a sudden clump of hair and waterweed, the tail soon to follow. The hollowness of its cheekbones became more pronounced, its sharp teeth showed in a mocking resemblance of a grin, the green of its eyes glowed brilliantly.

The horse looked into the terrified eyes of its captive and whispered in a voice that never spilled from its mouth but rumbled in its ugly chest, deep and entrancing, "Got you."

Later that day, the children would claim that the horse had spoken in an oddly inhuman-like voice. But as they watched just feet away in horror, the horse's teeth seemed to pull back even further to display its triumphant grin.

Then, in a swift shake of its head, the mystical creature extended its long jaw and wrapped jagged, precise teeth around the little brunette's arm. She shrieked once again–this time more in agony than fright–as the horse turned around began to drag her further into the lake. Her free arm and legs kicked and splashed in the water, but the horse's bite proved to be secure and harsh. They began to reach the center of the lake when the being suddenly pulled her under with it.

The kids watched from the waist deep water in which they stood, wondering if what they just saw had been real. The only traces of the horse and girl's existence were a few bubbles on the surface from where they had ducked under, and a tiny pool of red dotting the area. No doubt it was from the puncture wounds in the girl's arm.

It was as if a bomb had suddenly gone off. All at once, the children ran back to shore, screaming intelligibly while their parents stood agape in the stream, some of them even further out in the water from trying to reach the little girl in time after hearing her desperate cries, but to no avail. None of the adults seemed to have heard the horse speak, and they would later pass it off as the youngsters' imagination kicking into overdrive from the horrendous sight.

Hours passed, and nightfall came, but there was no sign of the child who had been dragged under the water. The search and rescue team was unwilling to send divers to the bottom of the lake for fear of encountering the same monster that had taken the girl. The people were frantic, and the child's parents hysterical, but they were all told to go home until further notice from the police.

Some of the children had nightmares that night of unnatural, four-legged creatures eating them whole.

When the townspeople awoke the next morning, eagerly waiting for some news on the mysterious crime scene, the police had no report to give on the missing girl. They did, however, find a single liver floating on the lake later that day.

It was soon confirmed after that the little pigtailed girl was dead.

…

Jack shot up from the couch, panting heavily from fright and something akin to exertion. His body trembled in a cold sweat, and were it not for the excursion his mind had just undergone, he would have marveled at the fact that he could feel any cold at all.

The nightmare he'd just had… It had all seemed so real and so horrific, and it reminded him terribly of that strange shadow horse he had seen the night before.

Lifting a trembling hand to his forehead, Jack wiped away the beads of moisture that had collected there during the nocturnal. He almost suspected Pitch, but considering the terms on which they'd parted ways last night, and the fact that the nightmare had been so vivid, Jack doubted that the Boogeyman would have had anything to do with this.

He released another heavy whoosh of air just as Pitch burst into the room, door slamming into the wall. His eyes were wild and agitated, and he immediately sought out Jack on the couch.

Jack subconsciously shrunk back from Pitch as he stumbled close. He looked like he had seen a ghost… which wouldn't really make sense, considering that they were both technically identical in nature. Nonetheless, the fey look upon Pitch's face drew reason for alarm inside Jack as he eyed the Boogeyman cautiously.

Pitch stopped at the other end of the couch and rested a hand over his heart, mouth hanging slightly ajar as he breathed rapidly. He stared at Jack as if he had expected something else before groaning and rubbing a grey hand over his face.

Jack had always thought himself a decent judge of people's character and feelings. As he gaped at Pitch, however, he began to second guess his own self-interpretations and wondered if this was perhaps Pitch's newest way of scaring people now, "Yes?"

There was a rather awkward pause that stretched after that one syllable, and neither party dropped eye contact. Jack was beginning to wonder if Pitch was suffering from a mental imbalance or something when the other rolled his eyes in disbelief. He was still trying to calm his breathing.

"I try to sleep for just a few peaceful hours, only to be jolted awake by this unknown, paralyzing fear emitting from you, and I madly dash over here… to see _this_?" He laughed dryly which came out more as a hoarse gasp than anything, "Do you really have no clue of how to control your fear?"

Jack gaped at him as if he had grown a second head. "Is that supposed to mean something? Or is that a fancy way of saying 'What the heck is wrong with you?'"

Pitch shook his head. Jack continued to ogle at him. Neither moved.

Never one to enjoy these uncomfortable conversations, the frost spirit twiddled his thumbs in his lap.

_Did I cross a personal boundary here or something? I feel like I'm missing the point. _

An uneasy smile tilted Jack's lips which didn't quite reach his eyes as the silence continued.

_Ok, this is ridiculous._

Well, if Pitch wasn't going to say anything, he may as well.

"SO!"

As soon as he shouted in an overly cheerful voice, he frowned internally. _Was that too loud?_

Pitch was giving him his signature scowl, again, although, the hand was placed back over his heart–a telltale sign that Jack had successfully startled him. This was better than being stared at like he was a museum piece, at least.

_Like, seriously, Pitch_.

The spirit seemed to take the hint. He cleared his throat, covering it in a fist–Jack speculated he was choking on his own stupidity–and resumed his authoritative composure.

"As I was saying," he looked as if he was shifting the blame onto Jack who merely returned the glare, "I was surprisingly shaken awake by your fear, it was _that_ strong. I must admit, when I rushed into here, I was expecting something a little more," he pursed his lips and flipped Jack an onceover with his eyes, "…severe."

The anguished look on Pitch's face was unfathomable. Jack narrowed his eyes, but not in an act of warning. He wasn't sure what to make of the taller spirit's behavior. The verbal exchange last night had been confusing, not to mention suspicious, but even now, Pitch was acting strange. Ever since they had argued, he had been uptight and uncomfortable. It wasn't only abnormal; it was cause for alarm.

_I wonder…_

"Pitch," Jack rose with a concerned frown from his seat on the couch slowly, not wanting to startle him. He felt as though he were talking to a skittish animal.

_Wouldn't be surprised if I was_, he thought.

"Is something wrong? Ever since last night, you–"

"I said, I was fine, Frost." _Oh, resorting to last names now. Not good. _"There is nothing for you to be concerned about."

Jack inwardly flinched at the biting tone. He knew something of the like would come from Pitch, but that didn't change the fact that it still hurt. Especially when he knew that the other was lying.

"I've hung out with you long enough to know when something is wrong, so don't go pulling the trump card on me. I just want to kno–"

"_Leave_ _it_." Pitch's voice left no room for argument. Jack refused to be easily deterred.

"If this has to do with last night, then I'm so–"

"I said _leave it_!"

Jack didn't have time to react as Pitch swooped forward and grabbed him by the throat, driving him into the wall. He thought for an odd moment that this was the second time in just a few hours that Pitch had done this.

_Ugh, I've gotta stop allowing him to throw me around._

He managed to keep his expression void of all pain–which he was in a _ton _of, thank you very much–and glared just as fiercely back into amber irises flashing just inches from his own.

"Gladly, if you'd just stop lying about everything!"

Pitch's eyes widened for a fraction of a moment before they returned to venomous slits. He looked as though he truly wanted to do nothing more than murder Jack repeatedly, but instead he lifted up the gasping frost spirit and tossed him several feet away onto the hard floor.

"Get out of my sight."

The command was faint and just above a whisper, but Jack heard the lethal intentions behind it all too clear. He coughed thickly, rubbing a hand over his sore throat. It was sure to bruise.

He rolled onto his knees and braced his arms on the wood beneath him. He somehow found his footing and pushed off the floor, using the cave wind to help balance him. His vision fogged for a second, and then he saw Pitch standing in the same spot from where he had tossed him. To Jack's surprise, he wasn't even looking at him. Rather, he faced the wall where he had held Jack, eyes closed, his head bowed. The tension was evident in his entire body. The frostling knew he was treading on highly dangerous ground now. He could still try, though.

He lowered his voice to a much softer degree. "Pitch, I–"

"Go secure the guardian's fortresses. Make sure everything is fine with the substitutes."

"You just can't tell me what to do," he whined. "Please, just tell me what's wrong…"

"Jack, if you don't leave in the next fifteen seconds, I might not be able to be responsible for my actions. Please, leave."

The room was still very dark, Jack took note of. Probably because the natural source of light was not allowed this far underground. It didn't inhibit Jack's ability to see Pitch's grimace, however. The signs of frustrations were in his creased forehead and glowing teeth. He looked as though he were truly retraining himself from lashing out. His hands were clenched so tightly, his knuckles were showing a definite shade of white.

They were the signs of a man suffering in pain, Jack realized. Maybe it would be best for Pitch to be left alone with his wounds for now.

_I swear, I'll find out what's wrong, Pitch. And when I do, you'll have me to answer to._

"Alright," Jack's reply was muffled, strained. Even though he had tried to destroy all the guardians and take over the world, Jack couldn't help the spark of empathy that settled uncomfortably in the bottom of his stomach. It left a very clammy and unwelcome feeling inside him. It wasn't sympathy, and he couldn't help but feel that he could relate to the older spirit. The feeling of distrust and hurt, being alone, but not wanting to be pitied–it was mutual to what he had experienced in the past before he became a guardian.

No one wanted to bother genuinely asking him then, so why should they now?

Feeling lost and insecure, Jack decided to slip out as quickly and quietly as he could. Pitch appeared to be struggling deep within his thoughts, and any distractions would provoke him into a snarling, raging mess.

He snatched his staff from the floor next to the couch and breezed out the door and navigated smoothly around the maze of dark and endless rock walls. When he at last felt a familiar tingling sensation on his skin, caressing his hair, he sped down a particularly long corridor until he reached the open foyer of Pitch's lair. It was the place where he had first countered Pitch in the Boogeyman's own home. The buttresses were still there, twisting and turning falsified paths that could so easily lead an unwelcome visitor astray.

The moonlight–so calming and soothing before–was now a distasteful sight, its luminous beams chasing away shadows that it deemed unnecessary. Jack had come to loath that wretched ball of light. It taunted him in its simple reminder of existence, that it had taken his one refuge and stable ground from him. Being alone without the guidance of the guardians had left a bitter chill in his thoughts towards the moon, one that could not be remedied by strings of praise and ever slight increases in his power.

That was one thing that Jack had learned from the beginning of his time spent in the companionship of Pitch. He was able to stretch his abilities with ice and create new–and sometimes, terrifying–weapons and variations of his element, silent and mortal, as well as useful and effective.

The frost spirit soared out of the cavernous space and into the slowly approaching dawn on an invisible force which lifted and carried him without need for a verbal command. The moon was still hanging in the sky in a desperate attempt to remain seen and comforting for those below it.

Jack released a wry laugh as he flew through the air, dodging the last few remnants of moonbeam that seemed to creep out of nowhere. They silently called for him, whisking along his body with feather touches and wishes that promised everything would be alright.

The moon was not comforting. It had no knowledge of succor, or how to lay peace to those it abhorred. Instead, it stood as unforgiving and merciless as the day it had made Jack a spirit.

Jack refused to let himself be tricked again. His creator was entirely a monster, and everyone was none the wiser. Except for himself and Pitch. He would beat him at his own game. He would settle his personal vendetta against the moon, and everything would be blissfully perfect once again. He swore it would.

…

The Tooth Palace was a fluttering symphony of cacophonic noises and voices. The distinct echo of buzzing was in every direction, coming to and fro, returning, delivering, or leaving.

Jack floated in the midst of it all. He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes, the familiarity of a headache not too far behind. The sigh that bounded past his lips startled him. It was early morning, dawn had just crept awake from its slumber on the horizon. Shafts of pale pink and brilliant orange light streamed through the palace and towers, creating a natural glow around the place.

The frost spirit had to squint suddenly from the brilliancy of the light, but soon realized that it was not from the sun itself, rather the sunlight refracting from the fairies translucent wings. The many fairies' means of flying caused the light to bounce off of them and onto other objects and buildings. The entire sight looked like an overwhelming mass of fireflies had migrated to the tropical heat of daytime.

Though he would never be sure how he knew, Jack always found it easy to tell the difference between each and every fairy. The contrast definitely wasn't in the appearance as they all carried the same likeness. At least, the mass majority of them did. Baby Tooth was unique in that specific as she was the only one to have mismatched eyes of cyan and magenta. To her credit, Jack personally thought it suited her very well.

The fact of the matter was, Baby Tooth was not only special because of her color, but also because she was the only fairy to have one eye the same color as Princess Toothiana. All the other little birds shared colors of gold or chartreuse, aqua or indigo. But none of them seemed to house the rare, vibrant cerise.

"A house on Lewis Avenue in Kentucky! Have any of you checked on Svetlogorsk yet? Oh, and don't forget the teeth in the Southern Region of Australia! I don't think anyone's gone there recently…"

Jack grinned to himself. And there was that voice that he had come to know so well.

"I think we need to send another round of fairies over Quebec, and– Hmm? What, Baby Tooth? Oh! Jack's here? Wh–"

Lavender pools found gentled blue. The little girl who was filling in for the Tooth Fairy instantly cut herself off as she caught sight of the frost spirit behind her and jumped up to wrap her slim arms around his neck.

"Jack, what a surprise! I'm so glad you're here!" She squealed with delight.

The guardian returned the hug, holding her tight, "Glad to see you too, Sadie. It's been awhile. How've you been?"

They stepped back from each other so that Jack could see her properly. She was still adorned in the form-fitting, strap dress which reached just below her knee. A light dusting of violet sparkled in her wear, barely visible amidst the sheer white of the material. She was shy just a century of him, but she didn't look like she could be older than nine. Perhaps it was her appearance and exuberant behavior, or her recent application in the field of guardian and spirit business, but Jack couldn't help but act as a big brother to her. Mercifully, she seemed to accept his protectiveness with open arms and warm smiles.

"I've been great! The fairies are amazing, they still help me with sorting out all the teeth collecting since I'm new. I don't know what I'd do without them. Probably wouldn't be too great of a sub for Tooth, that's for sure!" Her teeth gleamed as she smiled, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement. She swayed into the sunlight, her streaks of blonde and brown lighting up.

Jack's smile wavered as he continued to stare at her. Usually, her constant laugh and chatter would awaken the happiness inside him as well, but he couldn't find the fun in his center today. He felt disheartened and confused instead, like he had lost something and didn't know what it was. It wasn't like this every time he saw her, but the occurrence had become more frequent. The feeling fortunately did not intercept with his childish memories spent with Sadie.

Having been gifted with the name that quite literally was her center, Jack had decided from the day he had met her to change her designation from "Valor" to something more humanlike–Sadie. When she had asked, he'd simply laughed it off, saying that she was a princess to him and as such, should be known as the ruler of the embodiment of courage. From that day on, she was known as Sadie Valor, or Sadie of Courage and Law. To this day, she still must have considered the entire notion ridiculous, but didn't once complain.

"I'm sure you would be a perfect substitute, baby teeth or not."

She must have noticed his forced smile, but didn't inquire about it other than a slight tilt of her head and a worried crease in her forehead, "Yeah… maybe."

An uncomfortable silence fell around them as they flicked their gazes over the emerald workers and native pillars. It really was a beautiful sight–Jack wondered why he had stopped visiting here as often as normal.

The tension was broken by a lone set of chirps alerting the two. Jack turned his head to see an indignant Baby Tooth flying inches from his face, hands on tiny hips. She huffed at him and rolled her eyes, a clear indication of what she thought of his aloof behavior.

"Hey, Baby Tooth. Haven't seen you in a while, huh?" Jack lifted his finger to allow her a perch from the air. She nuzzled into his hand and patted him in reassurance. It struck Jack just how intuitive she was despite the language barrier.

He noticed Sadie out of the corner of his eye sidling up to him. She flashed a wan smile, lavender hues fixated on the mini second-in-command.

"She's always been attached to you. Ever since I first came here, she's always been talking about you, asking how you were…" Sadie giggled. She looked up at Jack with warm eyes. "I know this might sound silly, but I've always been kinda jealous of her. You two share a special bond, did you know that? Everyone has noticed it–even Tooth, but that was before she left. I remember her exact words: "Now, don't go messing between Baby Tooth and Jack. They'll fight you with every tooth and nail they've got until you're exhausted from heartbreak gone wrong!""

The slim girl mimicked Toothiana with vibrant hand gestures and facial expressions, and shared a knowing grin with the frost spirit. "And even after all that, I still couldn't help but feel that I was missing out on something. Being the youngest spirit… It hasn't been easy," she looked down at the ground as the forlorn aura returned. "I know that I shouldn't feel inferior to you guys…" Jack shifted, a deep scowl forming on his face. "…But I can't help but wonder what it is that makes you guys so close to each other. Maybe it's because I'm new and young, but it doesn't help any. I just feel so…"

"Alone?"

"Yeah. Something like that."

Jack brushed away silvery locks as he kneeled to the girl's height. Her bright eyes were clouded, not crying, but not comforted either. "Sadie…," he glued his gaze on her disheartened one and felt a connection. This had been him not too many years ago. Phasing from one emotion to the next. Never sure of himself, and having never been taught by others how to accept his new life.

"Sadie, have you always felt like that?" A nod. "Because you don't have to be unsure about yourself. You don't have to be scared of what the other spirits think." He laughed bitterly as he remembered the way he had acted before, just like her.

"I think it's about time we had a conference back up at North's with all the other guys. We need to solve this so called issue of loneliness. Because no one–_no one_–is a lesser spirit around here. Not even Pitch. And you've seen how arrogant that guy can get." Sadie tried to cover up her snicker behind her hand as they burst into laughter. Her smile returned, albeit slightly weaker, as their chuckles subsided.

"Thanks, Jack. I'd appreciate that. It can get old awfully quick when you feel lonely."

"Oh, trust me, I know." Jack rose back to his full height and ruffled the girl's hair playfully. She squealed with surprise, and he basked in the glow of her laughter once again. "Right, so I'll get on that meeting as soon as I can. In the meantime, you're gonna be alright, won't ya, kiddo? No more negative, depressing thoughts?"

The blonde tipped girl shook her mane of soft hair. "Nope, I'm good. Thanks, Jack. For… being here, and all."

"Hey, it's what I do, yeah?" He gave an awkward laugh, waving as he began to fly away. Jack had never been good at accepting gratitude from people as they had never offered it before. Even still, he had trouble at times carrying a normal conversation. Although, three hundred years of solitude could do that to you–

Shaking his head to avoid that train of thought, he waved farewell once more and soared into the air, the wind rushing alongside him. He whooped and hollered as he increased altitude, Sadie and Baby Tooth's enamored goodbyes ringing in his ears.

…

The Warren was surprisingly empty of life.

Not that Jack expected anything less, considering the attitude of Bunnymund's little follower. Jack had never been able to understand the rabbit's unusual tastes–that much had been evident when Jack had to point out the uselessness of food to immortals–but whatever the case, Bunny and he had disagreed in nearly all aspects, including the character traits of a person. The six foot tall pooka made no exceptions for his workers.

_I'll never understand your way of thinking, Cottontail._

"Hey, Nadera! You around?"

Jack had no qualms over being quiet in the Warren. If the eggs needed some peace and quiet to themselves, then they could do it elsewhere. It was one of the reasons why Jack liked to project his voice over the obvious silence, and why Bunnymund disliked him greatly so.

"NADERA!"

"_WHAT_!"

Jack would have jumped at the sudden shout, but he was used to this kind of casual greeting. Now, the questions as to the whereabouts of their sanity…

"Oh, hey, there you are. How's my favorite Easter sprite doing?"

"Jack Frost, I have neither the time nor the patience, so if you would be so kind as to…" The spirit gestured in a way that Jack obviously couldn't mistake. He smirked at the spark of bloodlust in her almond colored eyes. He might strongly dislike Nadera, but that didn't mean he could taunt her in place of Bunnymund.

_After all, they're practically blood related with that attitude. Probably why Bunny chose her._

"Fine, fine. I just swung by to make sure everything is in tip top shape. Can't be too sure with you, though," he narrowed his eyes teasingly at her and she returned the glower just as fierce.

They stared each other down, and Jack was sure he was going to win. He was the epitome of fun, no stubborn headed woman would easily beat him at his own game. He didn't miss the sudden, triumphant glint in her eyes, however, and it set off warning bells inside him.

Nadera was a sly, elusive creature with the likeness of a young adult. Her pale blue short strands of hair constantly swept in her face, but she put up with the bangs. From the pointed tip of her nose and chin to the folded white of her feathery wings to the slim figure of her waist and claws of her feet, she truly was an imposing spirit. She always deemed it fit to where armor everywhere she went; Jack would never understand why. Perhaps it would help the imposing cut of her form. It certainly made her appear as an unapproachable character. Jack swore he could see chainmail peeking out from the edges of her skirt and shirt. The vambraces that usually clutched her forearms were shockingly absent this morning.

"There something you got on your mind, Frosty? Any last words?" He could practically hear the mocking grin in her lilting voice.

Jack had no time to assume a defensive stance as he suddenly found himself staring down the sharp, deadly point of a trimmed arrow. He gasped, startled, and that little bubble of fear that he usually kept hidden when near the spirit sprang up again.

"Afraid of a little action? That's so unlike you, Frostbite." Her pale lips curled into a nasty grin. "I can practically sense the fear rolling off of you. It's pathetic."

Jack glared past the dangerous tip of metal to the face peeking out just behind the bow. "If you're looking for a challenge, you might want to consider playing on more fair ground. For instance," he swiftly ducked under the bow just as she released the string and shot a cascade of frozen water at her vulnerable feet.

He grinned at the slew of curses that the fae released and rolled to his feet, staff trained directly on her, and frost sparking from the crook, "I always believe in evening the playing field. Makes it more fun, no?"

Nadera growled at the ice freezing her feet in place before sending her piercing gaze on the frostling. Her face positively radiated fury.

"You got lucky one time, Frost. Next time, I'll have my dagger, and you won't be laughing so much." A cocky smile shone as she narrowed her sights at him.

Jack found it impossible to stop the spreading grin on his face. He had beaten her at her challenge! He had won! It was just a great a victory for him as anything else. That counted for a little celebration in his eyes. "So, I take it everything is just dandy here, at the Warren?" He couldn't resist a mocking wink as he jumped on the wind.

"Later, Frosty." Her voice turned deadly, "I'll be waiting."

_Yeah_, Jack thought, _Goodbye to you, too._

…

The yetis were impartial to sudden disturbances. Ever since Jack Frost had become a guardian, the swift and unexpected ruckuses that usually followed the frost spirit were common, though unpredictable. If not every day, then it would be every other day when they could expect an unwanted visit from the Guardian of Fun.

So, for the frostling to burst through one of the many open windows, unannounced, was very well a preparation that all the yetis had been trained for.

Jack flew hurriedly towards the second floor, dodging floating toys and grumbling yetis. He landed lightly on the wooden railing which lined the stairs, crouching on the banister as he scanned the mass of furry bodies for a familiar face. It wasn't often that he came to the Santoff Clausen in search of the Guardian of Wonder's substitute, but he couldn't help but feel as if he had done this a thousand times over in the past.

An intelligent, commanding voice sounded over the rushed stomping of the yetis from the floor above, Jack immediately sought out its owner. A tall man with an aged, yellow beard pushed through the thick crowd of workers, giving various orders to different groups.

Black pools lit up when they spotted Jack. Pointing out a few details to a yeti on a toy he was creating, the middle-aged man hobbled over to the frost spirit. "Jack! What a pleasant surprise! What brings you by?"

The lean man stopped next to Jack at the railing. "Not another mischievous ploy that you are cooking up, hmm?" His eyes twinkled with merriment as they shared a knowing look.

"Ha, no, not this time, Ombric. Hey, that reminds me, have you seen Phil as of late? He's been missing around the workshop, I've noticed."

"Phil… Phil… Ah! The yeti, yes? Mmm, I do not believe I've seen him around, either. But I'm sure it's no cause for concern. Have you come to visit, or are you pressed for time, and this is only a duty call?"

"No, no. I can stay, no problem. Actually, I was just wondering how you and the yetis were holding up."

The wiry male known as Ombric brushed a tired hand through his faded blond hair. His face had the likeness of a man in his late thirties, but his true appearance was a secret to most. Jack had once been told–firmly–by the spirit that he did not show his true form because it made him not only look intimidating, but it also was cumbersome to try and walk about in. From the information he had garnered, Jack had come to the conclusion that Ombric was an elderly, gnarly old wizard with a hunched over back. At least, that was what the children's picture books had said.

It was because of his restricted nature that Ombric bore the appearance of a younger man. Jack personally liked him better this way. He wasn't sure how he would feel if Ombric looked too much like North. He didn't want a replacement of the guardian; he just wanted to see the jolly giant again. Jack found that he missed North's comforting voice more than anything.

"The yetis are fine; I highly doubt anything could trouble them regardless. As for the workshop," he stroked a hand through his short beard, glancing up in thought, "…the workshop has had no maintenance issues, thanks to North for that. We are, however, slightly behind the normal schedule considering toy count this year. Nothing too big, just a small decrease in numbers. It should be fixed by the following weekend, MiM willing. Other than that…," the grin was back on Ombric's face as he beamed at Jack.

"Everything is well."

Jack leaped up onto the wind so he could hover cross-legged at the other's height. "That's great! I'll have to tell Pitch the good news. Maybe he'll get off my hide, then. Which reminds me, you haven't seen any shadows around recently, have you? Any nightmares?"

Ombric was already shaking his head before the frostling could finish. "No, it has been strangely quiet up here in the Santoff Clausen. I wouldn't put it past the shadows, though. If what your friend says is true, then the fearlings are still out there, probably planning another attack. Either that, or they've found a new leader who can control them as efficiently as Pitch did."

"Pitch didn't control the fearlings. The Nightmare King did."

"…Of course. That's what I meant."

There was a tense silence that drifted between the two of them. Jack hadn't missed the hesitation in Father Time's voice. Apparently, all the other spirits were still having difficulty seeing the difference between Pitch and Pitch Black. Even the Boogeyman himself had related the two people as one. But Jack knew better. The Pitch he worked alongside now was far different from the Pitch who had tried to conquer the guardians all those years ago.

His mind suddenly mulled over the other choice words Ombric had said. He had called Pitch _his_–Jack Frost's–friend. Not _their_ friend. For some unexplainable reason, that particular thought brought about a surge of anger that boiled within his veins and for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why. It wasn't like Pitch was even their friend–he himself had made that clear many times. So why was Jack's blood pounding in his ears at the notion that Pitch would be disregarded as such?

"Jack."

The spirit startled, but kept his visage one of neutral. He didn't want the man to see his anger. Better to refrain from starting a fight with a wizard.

"I think you could use a break." He spoke rapidly as soon as he saw the other opening his mouth to object, "Not because I believe you are under stress, but because I think a break could do you some good for a change."

"I slept over at Pitch's last night–"

"All the more reason why I think you need a night off. Trust me, I know the man can hold a very imposing atmosphere in the presence of others."

"But, Ombric, I–"

"It's settled then. I'll have one of the yetis prepare a guest room for you." He placed his hands on Jack's shoulders, something Jack had to resist to shake off. "Jack, you trust me, right?"

He wanted to argue. He could feel the angered words on the tip of his tongue. Instead, Jack bit back his hostility and snapped his mouth shut. His bangs slipped into his peripheral vision as he nodded, once. He didn't trust Ombric at all. At least, not now.

It was evident in the concern on the wizard's face–Jack imagined it to be fake, as was everything else about the man–that he didn't believe Jack's sudden resignation at all. He sighed through his nose, and the look he gave Jack immediately put him on alert.

_Uh oh. This can't be good._

"Jack…" There was that fake pity again. Ombric looked like he wanted to reassure the younger spirit, but thought better of it. "Walk with me to the workroom."

The flaxen haired man didn't bother to see if Jack was going to follow him or not. He turned around and began walking in the opposite direction, heading for a set of spiraling stairs along the wall. His steps were measured and paced, but his posture looked defeated.

Jack debated internally whether he should go after the man or not. His options were few, but the more he viewed them, the more the voice inside his head told him to flee while he still had the chance.

Deciding against his own better judgment, Jack hesitantly began to trudge behind the vanishing figure of Ombric. He wasn't sure what Father Time had in mind, but no matter what the man might have planned, Jack would be prepared.

He tightened the hold on his precious staff as his fingers curled.

_This time_, he thought_, no one's catching me off guard._

Jack maintained his distance behind the older spirit who obviously took it into account and graciously extended that privilege to the guardian. Jack wondered if he should be relieved or frightened at the courtesy.

They ascended the stairs at a leisurely pace, the wizard never stopping to give a command to the yetis. The higher they traveled up the staircase, the fewer workers there seemed to be. Jack lost count of how many floors they passed after the number five.

They were crossing the threshold of another floor, and Jack thought that they were going to continue on the next one above when the spirit he followed veered to his right and ducked under the staircase as he began to walk down the corridor which stretched underneath it. Jack followed suit, not having to bother ducking his head. He immediately recognized the way they were heading. It was the same place North had led him to when Jack had been kidnapped and brought to the workshop. It was the Guardian of Wonder's office, the room Jack both loved and hated. Loved because it was entirely encased in ice from floor to ceiling. Hated because it was the room he and North had shared together all those years ago when they created the whimsical toys made out of indestructible ice. It carried memories that Jack did not like to linger on, especially since he could not relieve times of yore.

"And here we are." Ombric sounded far too cheerful for Jack's tastes, considering the heated conversation they had just shared minutes ago. For the briefest of moments, Jack wondered why they hadn't just used the elevator to reach the floor when Ombric unlocked the door and swung it open.

He gestured for Jack to enter, but the Guardian of Fun made no move to go ahead of the other spirit. There was absolutely no way he was going to allow the wizard to walk behind him.

After a few seconds of reaction from neither of them, the wizard sighed. Jack could see the disappointed frown on his face but did nothing to reconcile the matter.

_Good. Let him think I don't trust him. _

Ombric stepped into the office, and Jack gave him a few seconds before he himself entered. He kept his shoulders tense, and his body hunched, ready to flee at the first sign of attack. Jack vaguely realized that he was probably fretting over nothing, but that didn't stop him from being prepared.

"There is something I have to tell you that is of the utmost importance," Ombric's voice echoed off the icy interior of the room, "But first, there is another matter we need to address."

Jack could see it in the stiffness of his form, the clenching of his fists, that the wizard was planning something. Yet, even when he had acknowledged the obvious threat in the room, he couldn't help the cornered feeling that sunk into the pit of his stomach as Ombric rounded on him and extended a hand outward, palm facing him.

At first, there was only confusion at what the man did. But then, as he gripped his fists tighter, he felt it.

Panic filled him from nowhere, and his entire mind became transfixed in horror. He didn't want to look down–was _afraid_ to–but his eyes followed of their own accord to his pale hands. Empty and lifeless without the comfort of his staff.

Jack shook as shock plagued him into a standstill. He slowly switched his gaze up to the blond perpetrator in sight. Ombric stood with sorrow in his eyes and guilt in his face as his own hand grasped tightly the well of Jack's power.

"I am sorry, Jack, but it is for the best." With those final words, he looked at the staff and muttered a few words under his breath.

_An incantation._

One moment, Jack's staff was in the threatening grip of Father Time, and the next, it was encased in a shell of solid ice in the far side of the room. Gasping, Jack shook himself from his daze and sprinted for the box of frozen liquid, desperate, sliding to his knees as he knelt before it.

He tried pounding on the shell, but the element wouldn't budge in the slightest. Jack cursed to himself when he realized that it was the very indestructible ice that he and North had made. It was cruel to be faced with the one material he knew so well, and not be able to morph it in any way. Jack knew that he couldn't penetrate the ice, and despite being a frost spirit, he could do nothing to attain the object inside it without having the staff in his possession.

He cursed again.

The footsteps were slow but loud–an obvious indication to the other spirit's presence. The frostling bitterly noticed that Ombric was probably acting this way just to show his caution and unwillingness to really hurt the elemental.

"Jack, I really, truly do apo–"

"Shut UP!" Jack screeched as he suddenly whirled from his spot on the floor and shot an unexpected blast of frost lightning from his hands. All he saw as he attacked was red, and he felt blind fury.

_How dare he, how DARE he_–

Exertion immediately set in and left Jack gasping for air. He registered the fact that Ombric had cried out in pain at his attack but couldn't bring himself to care. All his body felt was numb. Not the familiar chilly embrace of winter, but just empty numbness. His heart banged rapidly against his chest.

What was happening to him? Never before had he been able to shoot frost from his own hands. He stared, bewildered, at his fingers, eyeing the lingering remnants of ice that clung to the cracks and wrinkles. Perhaps Pitch had been right: he was growing stronger. First, in advanced technology of ice weapons, and now, it was coming from his hands, his core.

_What have I become?_

"Argh," Jack glanced up to see Ombric clutching the left side of his ribs. A thin line of red dribbled between his fingers. "Jack Frost, I am beginning to think you are more than an unruly, stubborn child. Just…" He blinked slowly, probably realigning his vision. "What was that?"

"…I don't know." It was the most honest answer Jack could come up with because he didn't know, not really, what was happening to him. He shuffled on his feet, feeling lost and, surprisingly, not angry.

He heard another murmur dance across the room, and then a soft golden glow shone from Ombric's ribs. The light receded just as quickly as it had started, Jack gazing in wonder. When the hand was lifted from the injury, there wasn't a trace of any wound in the skin, only a crimson stain in the blond's pale attire. The guardian watched as the other's face shifted from one of agony to reprieve. He then fixed hard, ebony eyes on Jack.

"It would appear as though it is true," he mumbled to himself. Ombric eyed Jack almost in a predatory manner, but then Jack blinked, and the look was gone. "Jack, I have received news from the Man in the Moon, recently."

Jack glared at the tall figure, teeth showing in a snarl. "What makes you think I want to listen to anything you or… _he_ has to say?" His voice shifted into a growl. "You just separated me from my staff! Why should I trust you!"

"Because you have no other choice!" Ombric roared. "If you refuse to listen to either Manny or me, then you have no chance of survival! None! You need us, Jack!" Breathing heavily, the wizard struggled to reign in his temper. Jack watched him carefully, eyes wide.

_What is he saying?_

"And whether you like it or not," Ombric's voice was much softer, and he stepped closer to lay a hand on the frost spirit's shoulder; Jack flinched, "we need you too. We _cannot_ fight these shadows on our own, Jack. None of us can. It is why the Moon has chosen us to work together. Not to isolate ourselves."

For a while, the pair stood in silence, one with bated breath, and the other biting his lip in contemplation. Jack's gaze flitted over the expanse of the room, never settling on the waiting eyes before him. He furrowed his brows as he considered Ombric's words. Finally, with a resigned breath, Jack raised his head.

"If I decide to join you… will I get my staff back?"

Clearly, this was not the question the wizard had been expecting, but he relieved his grasp on Jack's shoulders and rubbed his hair thoughtfully. "Of course, Jack. I was planning on giving it back to you tomorrow morning, anyways. Your decision does not affect your choice in freedom. I was merely locking it away for the night so that you would rest and take a break. You do not think… that I would willingly separate you from your source of power, do you?"

Jack was silent as he found it increasingly hard to meet the blond's gaze. He didn't want to see the hurt, the guilt that he knew his lack of verbal response was creating. The fact that he could not find speech to cover over his worry in that moment was more than a sufficient answer.

_I want to trust you–I _know_ I should… But why can't I? Why do I have such a hard time accepting people? North and Toothiana, they welcomed me into their group with warm reception. Is that what it's going to take for me to accept you? Maybe I…_

Jack hardened his eyes so that any emotion would be void. He allowed his gaze to burn into Ombric's, hoping that it displayed only determination. But the subtle downward twitch in his lips told him that he wasn't succeeding.

He could only manage a nod; he didn't trust his own voice, not now. Ironically, Jack felt himself relating this conversation to Bunnymund. The two never got along, and maybe that was the reason he suddenly felt an urge to see the rabbit again, just to taunt and banter with him like they used to.

_You're turning desperate, Jack Frost, if you are reminiscing over days spent in the kangaroo's company, _Jack thought wryly to himself.

He wasn't sure who made the first move to leave, but the spirit did catch the quiet "_Manny says to be wary, to watch yourself_" as he left the room. Hours later, he was moseying about lazily around the workshop, spying different rooms he had never visited and seeing the wondrous toys that the yetis worked so hard to make without the instruction of their leader. Ever since the guardians had left, the Santoff Clausen had seemed drearier, a sudden decrease in the joyous atmosphere that usually was so automatic in the place. It was in the work the yetis did, the way the elves didn't participate in trying to help in the toy industry, and how a recent investigation had proven that children were becoming less… satisfied with their Christmas presents, finding them lacking and lifeless. It wasn't that Ombric was a bad substitute for North, far from it, but the absence of the Guardian of Wonder was blatantly obvious in the workshop. It had begun on the day he left, and was steadily becoming more prominent as time passed, and years grew.

Jack wasn't sure what to make of the change in North's department. Yes, it was something to be worried about, indeed, but the frostling wasn't sure if there was anything he could do about it. No, they would just have to wait… Wait and pray that Santoff Clausen's rightful owner would return soon. This Christmas might just need saving, after all.

Dusk approached, and Jack, unnoticing of the change in time, automatically slipped outside for a quick breath of fresh air and to add a burst of flurries to the sky. He still marveled at the way he was able to conduct his power without his staff, albeit it small, in certain things like snow. With dedication and more practice, he might just be able to create a snowstorm in time. Patience was all he needed for now.

With a heavy sigh, Jack turned and headed back into the light of the workshop. Maybe by tomorrow he could dive further into this shadow business. He absently wondered what Pitch was doing as he made way to his promised room for the night.

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**Thanks again to those who have left feedback! **


	4. A Lost Cause

**A/N: Sorry this is late, everyone! Vacation and all that jazz. I'm also starting Cross Country again in a few days, so updates are gonna be hard. Just forewarning, you!**

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Chapter Four: A Lost Cause

The scent of snicker doodle cookies aroused Jack from his sleep. He forced himself to throw the covers off his body as his nose led him elsewhere. Before he stepped out of the room, Jack was elated to find that his staff was waiting patiently against the wall, probably having been placed there earlier in the morning by Ombric. He instantly grabbed the treasured wood and hugged it tightly to his chest.

He followed the scent with his nose until he stumbled upon the kitchen on the ground floor, finding it unable to resist the temptation of mouthwatering baked goods. It was surprisingly vacant, but Jack could see two yetis manning the ovens and stove. There was a small table in the center of the room, perfect for sitting down to a glass of milk and a thin stack of doughy goodness. The thought made Jack smile.

He looked up at the busy creatures, only to realize that he recognized the furry hide and face of one of them. The smile instantly stretched into a grin, and Jack snuck up behind the yeti, being as silent as possible.

He peered out from behind the ignorant worker to spot a fresh batch of the snicker doodles cooling on a plate. Snickering, Jack pointed his finger at the yeti's back, and a long trail of ice crept up and over its left arm.

The reaction was instantaneous. While the creature turned to his left to face the culprit, Jack snaked an arm from around the yeti's right and grabbed a warm cookie. He then beamed and leaped into the yeti's line of sight, jumping up onto the table and crouching in triumph.

"Hey, Phil." A trickle of heat went from his hand to his mouth as he nonchalantly took a bite of the cookie.

The yeti glared at Jack, confused, but when he saw the sugary sweet in Jack's hand, he glanced from the pile of cookies and back to Jack's smirking face. He roared in mock fury; Jack just waved a hand in greeting.

"Miss me any? I was looking for you yesterday." Jack finished the treat and brushed the crumbs off his hand.

Phil garbled something back in response, but Jack had a vague idea of what he was saying. Jack allowed the yeti to step closer and ruffle his hair. He watched Phil go back to work with his baking.

Jack, figuring that he wouldn't be able to salvage anymore conversation out of the yeti, swung his staff over his shoulder and wandered out of the kitchen into the main foyer of the workshop. North's place was always an interesting sight to see, as it never got old. There was a constant motion throughout the building with yetis meandering to and fro, tinkering away on toys and goodies that would be delivered every Christmas Eve. There was also the lingering smells that wafted through the air—some pleasant and others not so much. It made a content and welcomed feeling flutter inside of Jack. The workshop just felt so _alive_. There was only one thing missing and that was the undeniable presence of a master craftsman.

But Jack refused to allow himself to stew in those thoughts of misery. Instead, he hopped on an invisible gust of wind and flew to the globe up at the top.

He was greeted by the pleasant surprise of seeing another spirit already sitting on top of the globe, staff in hand. As Jack flew closer, the other spirit lifted its head and smiled in acknowledgement. Grinning, Jack bounded over to him, his feet alighting on top of the shifting surface.

"Nightlight!"

Nightlight waved a pale hand, then patted the area next to him. Jack immediately accepted the invitation and plopped down beside one of his most favorite fellow spirits. Nightlight and he shared a special relationship together where their friendship had stemmed from literally nothing. They had hit it off from the very beginning—something Jack thought unusual, but did not question it.

"I haven't seen you in ages. How've you been?"

Shrugging, the lithe boy raised an eyebrow as if to say, _Okay, I guess_. True to Sandy's nature, Nightlight rarely talked—not because he couldn't, but because he was quiet by nature. When he did use his voice, it was more often than not when he was trying to convey a point, or when he was whooping through the skies, much like Jack did. It was almost scary how identical in character they were. They both liked to soar on the wind when the moon was high in the clouds, illuminating the velvet atmosphere. They both loved to create a fun time, whether that be by pranking a poor, unsuspecting individual, or merely conjuring a cheerful atmosphere that called for happiness and joy.

Then, there was the physical appearance to take account for. Both Jack and Nightlight shared the same frostbitten hair, though Jack's actually had the additional tint of winter to his strands. They shared the same pale skin, boyish features, and to top it off, they both carried elongated staffs that coursed with the very heart of their power.

The only difference between the two seemed to be their core. Jack was an elemental spirit, whereas Nightlight was a ghost of the past. He had served his duty by entrapping the Nightmare King with his power of light. Jack knew full well that Nightlight could still channel moonbeams through the diamond dagger on the tip of his staff. It seemed as though the older spirit had laid his powers to rest, at least temporarily. For now, he controlled the boundless pool of dreamsand left behind by the Sandman himself. Sandy had chosen Nightlight as his unofficial helper and substitute for spreading dreams in his absence; Jack believed he couldn't have been any more justified in his decision.

Rubbing a hand against his eyes, Jack shifted his position on the globe as he and Nightlight slowly spun around the workshop. It felt nice to sit in companionable silence—a change Jack was becoming more adapted to. At first, he had been surprised to find himself favoring the quiet over amiable conversation, but Ombric had told him that it was nothing to worry about. It was just a phase that most people, including spirits, went through. For some, it lasted no more than a month, for others—such as Nightlight—an eternity. Jack figured his phase would be a fleeting one, and just brushed his worries aside, accepting the change.

Jack glanced over at Nightlight whose legs were drawn up to his chest and was resting his head on his knees, eyes closed contentedly. The frost sprite smiled at the sight and was contemplating on whether he should poke Nightlight in the ribs teasingly when a very startled and flustered Ombric dashed into the loft area of where North's desk and fireplace were located. He took one look up at Jack before reaching for the distress handle and firmly pressing it down.

The result caused Jack to feel a warm vibration shoot out from underneath him. He glanced down at where he was sitting and almost wished he hadn't. An aurora borealis of color shone into his eyes as it spread from the globe and up into the sky. He squinted over at Nightlight who appeared to be completely unaffected by the brilliancy of light. He glanced around the room, however, confusion and slight worry heading his expression.

Jack stood from his perch on the globe and blindly flew down to Ombric. He landed in the loft and was prepared to shoot the pacing wizard an angry glare but stopped short. The blond-haired man looked far too distraught for something light such as an ill-timed prank, and the fact that he had just signaled for the other guardians' substitutes was cause for more than just alarm. Frowning, Jack stepped into Ombric's path and caught his eye.

"What is it? What's going on?" He searched the wizard's face for an answer, scared at the haunted look in his eyes.

Instead of answering, Ombric just turned away from Jack at the sound of heavy flapping. Jack looked behind him to see Nadera flying through the workshop's window with her mighty feathered wings. The sight of its powerful majesty made Jack take a subconscious gulp. They sure looked more intimidating when in use.

Nadera quickly landed and folded her wings behind her as she stalked towards Jack and Ombric. She caught sight of Jack and grinned lasciviously before fixing her gaze on Ombric in a much more sober, but still arrogant, manner.

She tied her hair behind her shoulders and shuffled her belt—Jack instantly suspected she did it on purpose when her twin daggers glinted in the sudden light. He glared at the mocking grin which was just inches away from pulling at the corners of her lips. He took note of her stocked quiver, too.

"What's the big idea of calling me this early in the morning? I haven't even target practiced yet! And I always do that first thing after sunrise."

"Well then, obviously you are behind schedule as the sun has shown over the horizon for quite some time now."

Jack suppressed a chuckle at Ombric's monotone voice. He couldn't have sound more flat if he had tried. And, judging by Nadera's expression, she had noticed too. Her vibrant eyes narrowed.

"Why, you little—"

"Greetings, Pitch. It is good to see you in health still."

Jack stiffened at the name but forced himself to glance over his shoulder to confirm the wizard's words. Indeed, there was Pitch Black in all his morbid glory, looking as bored as possible.

He strode over to where the trio stood, not even sparing a glance in Jack's direction. "The same could be said likewise, I suppose, old _acquaintance_. How fares the wonder business? I believe it is safe to assume that is not the reason you summoned us here."

Whether Ombric recognized the biting tone or not, he did not acknowledge for he merely looked beyond them to stare out the window, as if waiting in anticipation. "No, no, that is not the reason. I will explain as soon as the other spirit arrives."

Jack furrowed his brow. "Wait, wait," he said, drawing four pairs of eyes on him. "You mean to say," he looked up at Ombric and gestured an arm in Pitch's direction, "that you summoned him? As in, like a guardian?"

He heard Pitch snort incredulously. Jack turned to find those golden eyes finally resting on him as if for the first time realizing he was in the room.

"Please, Jack, think logically. Do you honestly believe that I constitute as a guardian, now?" He snorted again, this time in dry humor. Jack narrowed his eyes angrily. He didn't see what was so funny about the question.

"Of course not, you could never be a guardian, seeing as how you have such a hard time finding believers. I just want to know what the hell you're doing here."

Pitch instantly leveled him with a glare that Jack returned wholeheartedly. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but honestly, he couldn't care less right now.

"Maybe I wouldn't have had such a problem dealing with them if you'd just minded your own b—"

"Hi everyone! Sorry I'm late!" They were interrupted by a cheerful voice which fluttered in from one of the windows. Jack glanced away from the staring contest he was having with the Boogeyman and looked at the newcomer, a small smile forming immediately on his face when he saw who it was.

Sadie dismounted from a giant, beaked creature that greatly seemed to resemble a large water fey, and she rushed over to join them. Jack watched in awe as the dark blue fowl behind her chirred loudly before pushing off into the air with one flap of its large wings. It soared out of the workshop and disappeared from sight.

Jack's eyes flicked back down to the little girl who was giving Ombric a compassionate hug, her height just barely reaching his abdomen. She then gave acknowledging nods and smiles to everyone else. Jack didn't miss the way she avoided Pitch's eye, and judging by the wicked grin on the shade's face, he hadn't, either.

"I believe that everyone is here now. I'm sure you're all wondering why I summoned you so abruptly."

There was an anxious pause in Ombric's words, and when he made no move to continue speaking, Nadera rolled her eyes exasperatedly.

"…Aaaannd?"

The wiry blond fixed a stern glare on her, then sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. "…And I have called you on the basis of some very disturbing news. Just recently, the Man in the Moon telepathically shared with me the statistics of where he and the guardians are at in the war they are fighting."

"Wait, war?" Jack interrupted, settling on the banister behind him and leaning forward. "It's not a battle anymore?"

He immediately regretted the question and felt a sudden urge to shrink and hide and when he saw everyone turn their heads in his direction, raised eyebrows and disbelieving eyes on him. He instinctively leaned back and pulled his staff closer to him, "…What?"

"…Jack," Pitch eventually spoke up, slowly and quietly, as if he were talking to a child, "We have been at war for a long time now. Almost since the very beginning, before the guardians were chosen."

"_What?!_"

"It's been going on since the near beginning of time. Quite frankly, I'm surprised you've been too stupid to actually realize that," Nadera said.

"No, give him some leverage. It's to be expected since it's coming from him," Pitch said.

"…E-Excuse me?!"

"You're excused."

Pitch's grin turned into something malevolent as he showed all his jagged teeth in a wicked, mocking representation of pitying behavior. It made Jack's blood boil, and his vision turned red.

"_You_—" His jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth, "You never _told me?!_"

Sparks began to fly out of the tip of his staff. He heard someone yell his name, but all he could see was Pitch's taunting grin widen, hear his words echo in his head.

'_It's to be expected, coming from _you_.'_

Snarling with rage, Jack shouted in anger and willed his ice to attack the shade's face. He didn't want to see that loose grin anymore. He didn't want Pitch to be able to stare at him unabashedly with that knowing look. He wanted it gone. He wanted _Pitch _gone.

But despite sending wave upon wave of frozen projectiles at him, Pitch didn't seem to waver. Instead, he continued to stand there nonchalantly, but there was a subtle shift in his eyes. A flicker of anger or fear, Jack wasn't sure.

His ice came to a halt when a bodily force slammed into him, and he fell to the ground, the force landing on top of him. He looked up, expecting Nadera or Ombric but was surprised at the worried face staring back down at him, one hand physically restraining his staff by holding his wrist to the floor. Jack blinked, dazed.

"Nightlight?"

The ghostly sprite shook his head, gave a pointed look at the ice traveling from Jack's staff down his arm, and then let him up, offering a pale hand. Jack accepted it gratefully, but still confused.

Once he was situated on his feet did he turn around and gasp in shock at the damage he caused. Ice was everywhere, coating the furniture, the walls, the floor. Even the brightly lit fireplace was now a frozen, hollow hole in the wall. Frost spiraled from the ceiling where the temperature had dropped significantly. The windows in the far back had shattered and were gusting in wind and snow. Two yetis were already trying to nail boards overtop to cover them.

Jack's mouth flopped open in horror. His eyes flicked over to Ombric, and then Nadera, both who were shrouded in the white essence—and did not look happy about it, either. The only ones who weren't completely coated were Sadie—who had dived under North's desk at the last second—, Nightlight, and… Pitch. The Boogeyman had his hand out towards Jack as if warding off a force. A phantom aura clung to him; Jack realized it must be the power of his shadows. It would explain why not a single icicle had touched him. He didn't even look like he had exerted any energy when withholding Jack's assault. There was only a look of hunger in his eyes. Jack instantly recognized that look. He had seen it that day in Antarctica when Pitch had proposed a deal concerning their combined forces of power.

The winter spirit panted heavily. He was astonished, if anything, that the unexpected show of his ice was more dangerous than he thought. It looked… intimidating. Something Jack had tried to avoid all these years, and yet, here it was.

"Everyone to the conference room. Now." Ombric brushed ice from his shoulders. His voice left no room for argument.

Throat thickening with a sick feeling, Jack followed behind the others. He ignored the pitying gazes from Sadie and Nightlight and especially did not acknowledge the leveling glares he knew to be on Nadera and Pitch's faces.

…

Fifteen minutes later, they still weren't making headway. Jack had all but refused to look at Pitch. He didn't even want to be in the same room as him, but here they were, all gathered around a round table like a group of blasted politicians. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"-though it is obvious that Jack has gained a newfound sense of power. Whether this can turn out to be good or bad all depends on how he goes about controlling it. I'd say a steady session of exercise would turn out to be profitable, if we play the cards right."

Jack blinked up at Ombric. He hadn't really been tuning in to the conversation too much, but he did know that he did not like the sound of the wizard's proposal. The others were keenly listening to him, and they certainly didn't look like they disagreed with what he was saying.

"No."

He must have spoken out while Ombric was still talking because everyone suddenly went silent and looked up at him in surprise. They must have forgotten he was even there, given how quiet he had been since the beginning of the discussion.

Jack licked his dry lips and glanced from one spirit to the other. "I don't want to go into training. As much as I'd love to expand my ice, we don't have _time_. You just said we're at war, right? Well, let's focus on that, instead."

Ombric cleared his throat, Jack looked back at him. "You don't seem to understand, Jack. We have been preparing for this war for a long time, but we haven't made any progress. It's not a matter of who knows what, but rather, who can do what. We need prowess, not knowledge. We already have strategy on our side. Unfortunately, so does the enemy—we're currently at a stalemate. Whoever makes the next move will determine where the war leads. Fortunately, the ball seems to be in our court. Which is where you," he pointed at Jack, "come in."

Jack furrowed his eyebrows. He had so many questions, but one of them was most prominent and had been on his mind for a long time. "Just who are we at war with?"

"Currently, the shadows. Though they've picked up a little playmate along the way." Jack swiveled as he glared up at Pitch. He hadn't expected him to participate in the conversation, at least, not now.

"Tell me, Jack, do you ever indulge yourself in those whimsical fairy tales that humans create?" Jack slowly nodded; he felt like he was being baited. Jamie had grown up surrounded with the myths and legends; consequently, Jack had had his fair share of hearing about a lot of them. Some of the myths sounded positively ridiculous. "Well, if you read into them, you would find out they're not as fanciful as most people believe. Many of them include legends of monstrous fae and carnivorous beings that prey upon unsuspecting individuals." He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Which isn't too far from the truth, really.

"Anyway, there is one tall tale that originates from the European folklore, particularly Irish. They speak of an untamed waterhorse breed that dwells in forest lakes and wide open seas. All who are foolish enough to go near them are dragged under their influence and drowned underwater where they are promptly eaten. Most children are taught this myth at an early age so that they refrain from running off on their own. It seemed to be a pretty good failsafe, especially since there are some accounts of humans who have gone near the water's edge and never returned."

Pitch took a deep breath, and he locked eyes with Jack. The guardian was subconsciously hovering in his seat as his jaw began to slacken.

"A recent change of events has begun to shift the story from legend into truth. More and more defenseless humans have gone missing over the past months. In each instance they were either in or near a large body of water. No trace of them has ever been found, but most of the time, a solitary liver can be found floating in the water—a key signature from the waterhorses. They go by the name of kelpie. You must have heard of them."

Jack nodded, dumbstruck. He couldn't believe his ears. This felt too unreal, like he was caught up in the middle of some horrible horror novel, and he was just beginning to read into the climax of it. But this wasn't a literary adventure he was undergoing; this was real.

"We spirits and fae have never been at peace with them," Ombric said.

"I, of course, have never really had any personal issues with their work—"

"They continually harass not only the humans, but us as well," Ombric cut off Pitch, shooting him a warning frown. "There is a great deal of them, a whole army easily. They have been a thorn in our side for many years, but never a true concern."

"Until now." Nadera's voice was baritone as she examined her nails.

"Yes, until now. They have somehow recruited a new leader to help them, how they convinced him is beyond me." Ombric shifted in his seat, restless.

Jack glanced over at Sadie. She stared back up at him, looking equally worried. "So, this… "new leader". What is he?"

"Ah, now that is a good question. One that I'm sure Pitch can answer best."

Jack's eyes widened, and he gaped at Pitch. Why would the Boogeyman know anything about this enemy? Wasn't he supposed to be just as in the dark as Jack was?

Pitch glared distastefully back at the wizard, "Why, _thank you_, Ombric. Ever the informer, you are." The shade rubbed a weary hand over his eyes. He groaned as he leaned back in his chair. If anything, Jack would say that he looked almost perturbed. He locked gazes with Jack once again. "Have you ever heard of the water spirit?" Jack shook his head no. "Waterhorse? Sea tyrant? Each Uisge?" Another shake. "Well, then, let's just say that he is a horse that looks a lot like the kelpie, only more vicious in nature. He lives in the sea and freshwater places near Scotland or the British Isles. Quite a messy creature. One you don't want to tangle with. He feasts on humans, but I've heard that he's expanded his appetite to other fae and spirits as well."

"His name is Meilyr," Ombric added. "He has recently been nominated ruler, or "king", of the kelpie—unofficially, of course. Our spies have seen him interacting with the shadows that are not of this world. Fearlings, nightmare men—they have all succumbed themselves to his rule. For how long, we do not know, but my guess is that it has been ever since the shadows abandoned the Nightmare King."

Pitch snorted at that, but Ombric ignored him. "If Meilyr continues his oppression with the shadows, then we will have to take action. We have considered negotiating, but after nineteen years of shadowmancing, I think it is safe to say he will not relent on his ruthless attack. We fear that he may be targeting the guardians' believers as well so as to get rid of them. The kelpie and shadows' submission has made him far too greedy for power."

"The shadows do not _submit_ to anyone. They merely find another individual's body that they can inhabit. They go to rule with the darkness of one's heart—they are not controlled by it."

A silence fell over the table as everyone looked to Pitch. Jack peeked a glance out of the corner of his eye. Pitch appeared absolutely bored, but Jack could sense the seething rage underneath that façade.

Frost crept along the sleeves of his hoodie mindlessly. Jack stared at the glassy element until a sudden thought occurred to him. Pitch hadn't seemed surprised at all by the information of Meilyr. In fact, _no one_ seemed to still be shock over the news. It was as if… As if they had—

"Wait, you all knew? You _knew_ we were still in danger of the shadows? And you didn't _tell me?!_" He shot up from his seat as he pointed an accusatory finger at Pitch. The shade rose too.

"Of course, I knew. Why do you think I didn't tell you?" He gestured a hand at Jack's hovered form. "This exact reaction was what I was talking about. You see, Jack, you can't handle stress too well. That's for the big adults. Why don't you go frolic some more with the snowflakes?"

"_Pitch!_"

Ombric jumped to his feet as well, knocking over his chair in the process. Neither spirit paid him any mind.

"You want to play, pretty boy?" Jack ground his teeth as he raised his staff threateningly. "You want to go head to head?"

Pitch leaned down till he was scant an inch from his nose, eyes gleaming with ruthless hunger and the need to attack and beat him senseless, "I would _love_ to indulge you upon such a request, but I'm afraid you are a tad bit too short for my taste. You seem to enjoy hiding in my shadow, do you like hiding there, Jack?"

Jack yelled, furious, and he shot a blast of frost lightening directly at that smug grin. Pitch laughed as he easily danced around his attack, shadows coiling around his hands as if he was denying himself the urge to attack. The fact that he wasn't even worried in returning fire only served in angering Jack further.

Seething, he angled his staff at Pitch's hidden boots and spat a frostbitten ball of wintry ice. The result was an explosion of white, and Jack wasn't sure if he'd hit Pitch or not. He blinked and lidded his eyes, trying to squint through the brightness.

A sudden shout to his left had him sliding on his feet. He flipped backwards on an invisible breeze and directed his staff in the direction the sound came from. Another brilliant flash exploded, and then the area was blanketed in darkness. Jack heard startled shrieks from the others and what must have been the sound of swords being drawn.

"Pitch!" Jack shouted into the darkness. "Show yourself!"

He felt a tremor of fear as the embodiment itself blew a thick breath of warmth along the back of his neck, melting the thin sheen of ice that naturally coated his body there. His pulse quickened, and he swallowed as the menacing grin rested right beside his ear, whispering oh so cruelly with the promise of vengeance, "Right here, snowflake."

Jack just barely had time to gasp before he was tumbling down, down through the floor shadows and into the snowy cold outside. He lost his grip on his staff and landed face first in his own element. Instantly, he was back on his feet, grappling at his staff feet away and scanning the winter landscape. His grimace deepened as he zoned in on any suspicious movement, but there was no sign of the devil, and where was he?

_Oh. Found you._

Pitch stood off in the distance as if he had been there the entire time, but the grin from before was gone. He had his hands folded behind his back, and he looked down his long nose at Jack as if he were about to reprimand a child.

"Jack Frost, I do believe you are more menace than first impressions would seem."

"Yeah? And what makes you think that?" Jack approached warily. He held his staff at the ready, fingers itching for the ice he would command if need be.

Pitch gave him an austere smile. Something flickered in his amber eyes as he looked beyond Jack for a moment before staring back at him. "You have a bad habit of judging people before you truly get to know them. What, did you think that since we'd spent the past years fighting together that we were friends? Ah, don't look so surprised my young sprite! Surely, even someone as linear-minded as you would be able to have realized this beforehand."

Jack bit back the snarky reply he wanted to say and instead leveled Pitch with a glare. "How long?" he asked in regards to the shade's knowledge of the whole shadows affair.

Pitch gave him a wry look as he tilted his head knowingly in answer to Jack's question. "Since you and I started… _working_ together."

The answer was expected, but it didn't mean it hurt any less. Jack glared down at his feet as he tried to remain emotionless. He knew Pitch saw right through him, but that didn't stop him from trying. "You mean to tell me…," his voice was low, he almost didn't hear himself, "that you, you of all people, consorted with the others and discussed the guardians' business behind my back… for nineteen years?!"

Pitch chuckled dryly under his breath. "Would it make any difference if I said no?"

Jack leaned back from his defensive stance as his staff dropped loosely in his grip. He already knew the answer, and quite frankly, he was done with fighting. He suddenly felt tired.

"No."

"…I thought not."

Jack trudged away from the spirit and the workshop. He could feel his chest shuddering as the cold truth set in. The other spirits had known. They had known… and equally voted him out of that knowledge. The old feeling of rejection was crawling back into his already dysfunctional mind.

What was the point of staying when he wasn't even needed?

He could feel Pitch's eyes on his back as he soared up into the air. He never made a move to stop him, didn't even call out. Jack heard the telltale sound of Ombric's deep voice from stepping outside, commanding that he come back, but he ignored them. He almost stopped at Sadie's frustrated cries, but reminded himself that she had been part of the group that voted him out of the meetings. She must not have wanted him either.

Jack was bitterly reminded of the day the guardians cast him aside as well. He pushed through the clouds angrily as he tried to fly away from his problems.

…

The autumn wind was a welcoming companion that brought him solace as he descended on the window sill. Jack wasn't even sure what he was doing here—he sincerely hoped he had the right address—since Jamie wasn't at his home. Jack was deeply grateful to his firm believers that still acknowledged him as the winter bringer.

Which brought him back to the reason he was here. Ombric had mentioned briefly during the meeting that he thought the Each Uisge might be targeting belief. If that was the case, then Jack needed to make sure that he warned his own believers to be careful.

He blatantly ignored the fact that he also had nowhere else to go.

Peering inside the window, Jack glanced around the darkened apartment. It was nearing dusk (he had spent a long time searching for the apartment), and Sophie would probably be heading home soon. It was Saturday evening, after all. She shouldn't have work today, and Jack had never considered her to be the party type. Maybe she was already home.

He rapped on the glass with his knuckles, waited with bated breath. To his surprise, a very confused and alert Sophie stepped into the room and stared at the window. Jack laughed to himself when he saw the poised baseball bat over her shoulder. She hadn't changed a bit.

The young blonde visibly relaxed when she saw Jack and gave a tinny laugh, waving. Her bat was dropped carelessly on the floor as she ran over to the window and unlocked it. Before the Guardian of Fun could say anything, she lifted the window open and wrapped her arms around his neck in a suffocating grip. Her lithe body pulled him into the apartment.

"Ah! Sophie—!"

The woman refused to relinquish her fierce hold on his neck; she squeezed all the more tighter. "Jack, you have no idea how much I've missed you!" She buried her nose into the collar of his hoodie and inhaled.

"Ugh, good… good to see you too, Soph. Um… are you smelling me?"

She stepped back and released the spirit from her death grip. Her hands rested on her hips, and she grinned. "Yep, still smells like pinecones and thistle!"

Jack just shook his head and laughed. He brushed the back hairs of his head up as he felt the sore area where the girl had wrapped her arms around him. She certainly was strong for someone of small stature.

"I take it the scent of my clothing is appreciated?"

Sophie smirked at him. She wagged a finger in his face before walking to pick up her abandoned baseball bat. "You know, Jamie said that you said you would visit a few months ago. What happened there, mister?"

Jack saw the smile never leave her face, but he could still hear the hurt in her voice. He winced at the thought. Just how many people could he upset?

"Um, yeah, about that…" Sophie glanced over at him from where she was storing the baseball bat away in the kitchen. Jack found it a strange place to put the thing, but he didn't question it. "Listen, I really have been meaning to drop by sooner, but I got caught up with other stuff that involved taking care of kids. Being a guardian and all…" He shrugged as he tried to appear indifferent, but the thought of accidentally forgetting one of his believers for an extended period of time made him cringe in dismay. He knew what that felt like.

"It's actually the reason I'm here." When the blonde shot him a deadpanned look, he immediately held up his hands in surrender. "Not that I don't enjoy visiting you at all! Far from it, actually. You're a great friend, Soph."

"Friend," Sophie echoed. She smiled amusingly at him with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Not best friend? Or bosom buddy? Chum, pal, mate? Oh wait, that's what Bunny calls everyone, huh?"

"Hah, yeah, he does. It's kind of weird, though."

Sophie folded her arms as she leaned against the granite counter. "How is he?"

Jack blinked at the unexpected question. He should have figured that she'd inquire about the other guardians. How was he supposed to answer that?

"Uh… I'm sure he's fine."

"You're "sure"?"

"…Yeah." He blinked at the suspicious glare the girl was shooting him. "I mean, I haven't seen him in a while, so I'm assuming he's ok," he swallowed at the half-lie. If anything, Bunnymund was probably sore and beaten from the war up on the moon.

"Anyways, the reason I came to see you was because I was wondering if you knew where Jamie was." He frowned at how rude that sounded.

_Jack Frost, you most certainly are not a ladies' man._

Fortunately, she smiled it off. "Jamie actually isn't here right now. He' taking a flight to Europe in the next couple of days, I believe. You just missed him; he visited me late last night so that he could say goodbye."

Inwardly, Jack sighed. He couldn't believe how close he had been to catching Jamie.

"Do you want me to call him so that you can find out where he's staying?"

"No, that's alright. Just tell him if he calls that I said for him to be careful and to have fun on his trip—and to stay away from the women over there. They're nasty, from what I've heard." Sophie chuckled behind closed lips. "…Oh, and also tell him that I said hi."

"Not necessarily in that order?"

"Not necessarily in that order," Jack affirmed. He grinned at the young blonde and hugged her. "Thanks, Sophie. I know I can always count on you." He sighed as he stepped back to eye her appraisingly. He lifted the girl's chin with his hand. Verdant hues shined in the dim light. "I want you to be careful too, Soph. There's some mysterious threat that's been going around and terrorizing people. We think he might be targeting belief, but we aren't sure yet. So watch yourself,… lil' ankle biter."

She shared his thin smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "What kind of threat? Is he endangering you guys? The guardians, I mean?"

The frost spirit exhaled with a whoosh of air. "Yes and no. Don't panic or anything, but we think he might be attacking humans, too. Which is why," he playfully punched her in the arm, "I want you and Jamie to watch after yourselves. Don't do anything rash, and don't go in dark places by yourself. Stay in crowded areas. Oh, and avoid lakes and ponds. Anything that may be freshwater."

Jack gave her one last smile before turning and heading for the window sill. He stopped short when he felt a harsh tug on his sleeve. Sophie gazed back at him with fear in her wide eyes.

"Jack, what is it? What's going on? Who's threatening us?"

They stared at each other for a minute. Sophie's pupils were so blown and dilated that Jack could see the distorted image of himself in them. He placed a consoling hand on her shoulder, but the worry was more evident on his face now. Looking at one of his beloved believers, he realized that he couldn't bear to tell her the full, horror filled truth. He wanted her scared enough so that she wouldn't do anything beyond the boundaries of logic, but he also didn't want to be the cause of her nightmares, either.

"…I don't know, Sophie," he diverged. Jack leaned down and looked her directly in the eye; his voice dropped to a whisper, "So… stay safe. Don't trust anyone."

He gave a final wave and leapt out the window with the picture of the girl's single nod engraved in his mind.

…

Precipitation was easy to summon when it came to forming clouds. Jack stirred up several large cumulonimbus clouds and filled them with water that would soon turn into falling snowflakes. He pushed the white, puffy expanse out and around him, then dropped the temperature to a fitting, cold degree. Right now, he didn't want to be bothered by anyone. He didn't want to _think_. He just wanted to bury his emotions into his power.

The prior, insulting words from Pitch still echoed around his head. Was he really not wanted? Did the guardians and spirits truly accept him? Or were they just stringing him along so that they would have his power to their advantage when needed?

Jack shot an angry burst of blue frost into the sky. He was above any civilization and their lights. It was completely dark out now; no one would see him.

Jagged icicles began to freeze over the folds and sleeves of his hoodie. Jack watched them grow in a quiet rage. He sucked in a breath through his teeth. He was done with the world, done with everyone's mindless rejections. Had it not been for his few, remaining believers, he would have killed himself by now. He had attempted it before, but without much luck. Apparently, the status of a guardian came with heightened protection and immortality. He might still be able to injure himself, but it would take a lot of effort to accomplish anything.

Jack was on his third round of shooting frost into the stars when he felt a presence. It wasn't foreign… but it wasn't all too familiar, either.

Jack slipped into the cover of his clouds as he looked around. The presence—whatever it was—was growing stronger and approaching closer as the seconds dropped. Jack peered through the concealing blanket of white and then spotted it.

Black—it was black… and four legged. It tossed its head and stepped out of the clouds, a stream of shadow following it.

_A nightmare_, Jack realized. If that was the case, then Pitch must be somewhere around here, too. However, as the minutes ticked by, the horse pranced around the night sky, alone and not hostile. It was obvious that it had smelled Jack, but it seemed to prefer indulging the frost sprite in his game of hide and seek.

Scanning the clouds one last time, Jack flew out of his hiding spot and approached the nightmare, hand held out in a gesture of open friendliness. The horse flicked its ears in his direction and turned glowing, golden eyes on him. Slowly, it stepped forward and nuzzled the palm of Jack's hand, sniffing it in return.

Jack smiled as the mare pressed her snout into his hand. Her warm breath tickled his fingers. His other hand reached up and brushed alongside the silk of her mane. Shadowy particles combed out through his fingers.

The mare snorted as if in appreciation of his stroking, and turned her head to face him again. It took all but a few seconds for Jack to realize that this was no ordinary nightmare.

This was Pitch's cherished ride, Onyx.

"What are you doing all the way up here, girl?" he murmured as she licked a rough stripe up his palm. "You finally get tired of your master?"

She tossed her head, and her nostrils flared. Jack heard a soft nicker rumble from within her throat.

"They always were trained to be excellent hunters. She's my best one."

Jack whirled around, gasping in shock. He stared up at the intruder with no small degree of hatred. "What're you doing here? How did you find me?"

Pitch inclined his head toward the horse standing next to Jack, a blank expression on his face. He appeared to be walking on air itself as he moved about the clouds.

Jack held up his staff when Pitch approached closer than he wanted him to—a warning. The shade took it in stride as he stopped a few feet in front of Jack.

"Well, it should be blatantly obvious that I don't want you near me if I'm all the way up here. Kindly dispose yourself in another location," Jack growled as he hovered closer to Onyx. He wondered why he didn't sense the other spirit in the first place.

"On the contrary, Jack. I think you want me here. I wouldn't be able to walk on _your clouds_ otherwise." A pale hand gestured at the shifting material underneath him.

Jack froze in shock… and something identical to horror. It was true; no one could walk on his clouds unless he consciously permitted it. The revelation was jolting.

He dropped his staff from its threatening position, but his snarl grew on his face at being one-upped. "Fair enough," he spat out, and oh, was that a smug smirk on Pitch's face, or was that just the shadows?

He turned his back on the shade so that the other would know he was purposely ignoring him now. He should have known that wouldn't stop Pitch, of course, it wouldn't.

"You know, the other spirits have been deeply concerned about your state-of-being. They're in a jumbled, sympathetic mess, tail feathers ruffled and all. It's quite revolting."

"But not you, huh," Jack whispered. He instantly regretted the words because Pitch went silent, and shoot, he did not mean to sound worried. To hell with him if Pitch ever thought he cared about what the shade thought or felt. He was not some pathetic fledgling, dang it!

"No, of course not." Pitch's voice was equally soft and quiet, and man, was he close behind Jack. The frostling tried to restrain the shiver that wanted to crawl down his spine.

He swallowed and cautiously turned around, facing the Boogeyman. Pitch's amber eyes were as brilliant as ever, but there was a certain emotion panging through his face. Jack swore he saw a look of concern on the shade's face, but it flashed by in the next instant.

"I suppose an apology is in order." Pitch raised himself up on his toes and back down again, looking very much like the suspicious school teacher that regarded his students with a disdainful glare.

A few seconds of silence passed between the two, and Jack lifted an eyebrow in expectation. He opened his mouth to interject, but Pitch beat him to it.

"Well? I'm waiting."

Another few moments of awkward silence, and then, Jack was staring up at the shade, floored.

"_What?!_"

"I don't believe I stuttered," he had the audacity to pretend examining his fingernails.

Jack's mouth flopped open and closed for a few times until he found his voice again.

"Y-You should be… apologizing to _me!_"

"Oh? And whatever gave you that impression? You were the one who began the fire, I recall."

"B… But you—! I…" Jack tried to find words, but he was too astounded by the other's behavior to voice any of his many thoughts. Pitch grinned down at him.

"What, you thought I would have come up all this way to simply say "I'm sorry"? Because, while that is true, I do believe you are at as much fault as me, _snowflake_."

They both gaped at each other, though Pitch's expression seemed a bit more relaxed.

Jack released a bark of laughter. He couldn't help it—this was just so crazy! If anything, he thought Pitch should be the one apologizing, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that the Boogeyman may just be right.

The whole idea was absurd.

Shaking his head, Jack chuckled under his breath at the amused expression on Pitch's face. He sighed and then blew the hair out of his eyes. He surprised himself by sticking his hand out.

"Truce, then?"

The spirit obviously hadn't been expecting such a swift reaction if the taken aback look on his face was anything to go by. He recovered quickly though as his daunting grin returned quickly.

"I don't think you've said you're sorry, yet." They firmly shook hands.

"Maybe I'm not," Jack grinned cheekily. He allowed Pitch to relax his grip on his hand, and then he immediately tightened his grasp. He yanked down the startled spirit to his height, and he leaned next to his ear, "You better not double cross me again, you freak."

"Freak? Well, I guess I'll take what I can get," and then, "Wouldn't dream of it," he said in reply to Jack's "threat".

Jack relieved Pitch from his death grip, and the two eyed each other warily. Jack eventually broke eye contact, but he could feel the other still burning holes into his head.

_Fine. If he isn't going to say anything—_

"I wonder what would happen if I relinquished my hold on the clouds you're standing on," he baited. His mocking tone didn't go unnoticed.

"What indeed."

Jack hovered there, uncertain as to what to do; he blinked when Onyx nudged her long nose against his side. He felt more than saw Pitch watch his every movement as he petted the mare's soft coat.

"She favors you, that one. It's not something that one easily comes by."

"…I know."

Jack gave Onyx one last pat and smile before facing Pitch once more. The shade stood aloof, and Jack wondered if maybe he felt like the awkward third wheel. The thought made him grin internally.

He then pointed down below them, "After you?"

They traveled at a reasonable speed, Pitch riding atop Onyx's back. Jack flew beside them as the landscape lights came more into view. They had almost reached the bottom when Jack spotted a dark form race by.

"There!" He pointed at the rushing mass, realizing it was likely a few of those waterhorses.

"I see them." Pitch pulled on Onyx's reigns in the direction of the kelpie as Jack picked up speed. They chased after them in hot pursuit.

Jack felt the wind rush underneath him as he sped in the direction of the waterhorses. There were five—no, six of them that were galloping for either a pond or lake, Jack wasn't sure.

He stopped suddenly when the kelpie made a ninety degree turn and began heading for Jack and Pitch. Jack raised his staff, but none of the kelpie slowed their charge. His frost sparked as he aimed at the horses, freezing one of its legs. Onyx and Pitch raced ahead of him as the shade summoned his long scythe and disposed of the handicapped horse.

The other kelpie shrieked at them and the remaining five split up to fight Jack and Pitch. Jack gasped as a pointed hoof nearly kicked him in the ribs, but he didn't have time to recover as another bit him in the leg. Jack shouted as ice automatically shot out of his hand and into the horse. He heard a shrill screech from it, but didn't bother to see if he had killed it or not.

He faced the remaining waterhorse, adrenalin spiking through his veins. The brief horror of killing another fey came and passed as they attacked each other. Jack yelled as he narrowly avoided a deadly bite before he flipped over the horse and rammed icicles into its exposed back. The horse screamed in pain, and Jack realized that his icicles must have pierced it all the way through when it collapsed on the ground, unmoving.

He stayed in the air above the kelpie for a moment longer, then looked up and rushed over to Pitch and Onyx.

The shade appeared to be fine as he killed off the last of the waterhorse, but his breath was ragged as he slouched over the steed. He caught Jack's eye and nodded once before closing them again as he focused on each inhale.

When at last they had caught their breath, Jack clutched his staff to his chest exhaustedly, "Where— Where did they come from?"

"I… I don't kn—"

"My, what have we here?"

Pitch's eyes sprang open and widened tenfold as he whirled Onyx around. Jack followed the smooth voice to where a figure stood not fifteen feet away from them. Casual pants, and a loose button down shirt adorned a slim man. At least, that's what Jack assumed he was, but the sight of waterweed in his dark hair made him assume otherwise. His hands were stuffed in his pants pockets in a relaxed manner, and his feet were bare.

"Oh, you know, just browsing the neighborhood. Enjoying the scenery. What honor do we owe in favor of seeing the divine Each Uisge this evening?" Jack could hear nothing but sarcasm in Pitch's voice as he eased Onyx's reigns, but his posture indicated he was far more enraged.

Jack's eyes widened as he gaped back at the strange fey. So, this was Meilyr, the Each Uisge. A tremor of fear riveted throughout his body.

"Hmm, I would assume anything but, seeing as how you killed a few of my people just now. Little gruesome for sightseeing, isn't it?"

Meilyr took a step forward, but Jack instantly raised his staff as frost glowed from the tip. The water spirit stopped and flashed him a full-fledged smile that exposed his numerous, sharp teeth. Jack shivered under the cruelty of it. He floated forward as an unknown rage seethed inside of him, but instantly paused when Pitch placed a warning arm in front of him. Jack looked up at him and swallowed at the fearful glare Pitch was giving him.

"No, please, do let him try his skills against me. I like a spirit with confidence." Meilyr taunted them as his arms folded, reassured.

Jack slowly glanced back over at him and found himself hypnotized under the Each Uisge's watery gaze. At first, he saw the shallow green of his irises, and then he saw himself on the ground, screeching in pain.

Jack gasped as he floated backwards, but he could not break the trance. He saw buildings, people drowning and being eaten alive. Their screams echoed inside of his head, and he gripped his ears, trying to block out the sound. It was of no use, they shrieked directly into his hearing, cries of "why didn't you save us" and "you call yourself a guardian" being some of the repeated phrases. Jack groaned, distressed, and he couldn't stop the tears from falling. When he lifted his eyes again, He saw a familiar mess of both blonde and brown hair, both screaming in terror and pain. Jack watched with horrified eyes as Jamie and Sophie were mauled to pieces, slowly, excruciatingly, and as they were murdered before his very eyes, he heard them ask the same thing, wondering what he was doing, why wasn't he saving them—

Jack crashed back to reality as he felt Pitch sharply slap him across his face. He gasped for air as he heard the sounds of night return to him, the screams echoing away from their din. Jack gave a muffled cry as he sank to his knees, scarred. He heard the sound of what must have been Pitch yelling at something or someone. They must have exchanged words while Jack's ears finally began to stop ringing.

"-which is why I'm giving you this final warning." It was the smooth voice of Meilyr. "I, personally, do not wish to harm you fellow spirits as long as you stay out of my way. But if you interfere, well," there was the noise of feet shuffling along dirt, "…I can afford to make changes to my plans. Do stay in fair health, you two. We wouldn't want to see anything happen to our favorite lovebirds."

"I always make arrangements. Let it be known that the feeling is assuredly mutual." That was Pitch.

There was more background noise, and then all was silent. Jack stared unseeingly in front of him, wondering what was going on. He wondered what had happened to his vision.

A body knelt beside him, and then there were two cold hands on his shoulders. "Jack, Jack, can you hear me? I need you to stand up."

Jack wasn't sure who was exactly asking him such a simple request, or why they were. But he felt his head nod numbly, and the hands shifted to help him up. Jack reached forward, trying to grasp something, anything. His hands fisted into comforting fabric. He drew the person nearer and inhaled. He recognized this scent. Yes, this was Pitch.

He mindlessly remembered the other's question and moved his feet from underneath him. He felt his calf muscles tighten as he tried to push up, but his knees buckled halfway, and he fell back onto the ground.

There was a brief sigh, then hands wrapping around his forearms to pull him up. Jack subconsciously gripped the other's arms as he was lifted onto his feet. Once standing, he buried his face into the spirit's chest.

"Pitch, I… I can't see."

"I know, I know. Don't worry; you're going to be alright."

Jack nodded as he felt the strangely familiar words wash over him.

Pitch grabbed his arm to make sure he didn't fall as he pulled him on top of Onyx. He soon mounted up after him.

"Let's head back to North's."

Jack nodded again and squeezed his eyes shut as they teleported through the shadows.

* * *

**A/N: Ok, just to put this out there (since I'm sure quite a few people will point this out), yes, the villain is the Each Uisge, and yes, he is a main character. The fact that another well-esteemed author on this site (not-poignant) is using the same villain is completely coincidental. I've been working on the plot of this story for a very long time now, before I even heard of NP's Shadow and Light series. I _have_ read her fics which are absolutely amazing. When I found out that she had included the Each Uisge in her story too, I was elated. Even still, before I posted this fanfic, I went ahead and double-checked with her to make sure it was alright if we had the same type of villain. She's perfectly fine with it; you guys can ask her if you want to check for yourselves. **

**Also, to be clear, just because we share the same villain does NOT mean we share the same character. Our Each Uisges are going to be similar in the fact that they are "evil", but other than that, there will be no correspondences. Just throwing that out there, folks. :) I hate plagiarism (as I'm sure a lot of you do, too) so I wanted to let everyone know what was going on.**

**With that said, I've started a tumblr... and have no clue how to run it. I mainly want to use it for information on this and my other fanfics, and also in case any of you might have any questions you might want to ask me. I'm under the same username as here. :)**

**Thanks for all the feedback, guys. You are amazing. I'm so grateful to have readers like you. Thank you!**


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